


set my soul alight

by chininiris



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Seteth and Flayn's Supports, Twilight References, no beta we die like Glenn, spoilers for all routes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chininiris/pseuds/chininiris
Summary: “How old are you?”“Thirty five,” he answers promptly.“And how long have you been thirty five?”His lips press together in a thin line as he regards the woods around them. “A while,” he says at last.or: the Twilight inspired fic nobody asked for but you're all getting anyway
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Comments: 116
Kudos: 178





	1. first meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself one day "Chi, you need to stop writing new fics and focus on your wips." And then I rediscovered the Twilight Saga soundtrack last Friday, and then I started remembering the plot, and then I watched all five movies in one weekend, and it all went downhill from there. 
> 
> So here I am, yeeting this into the void of the internet. It was supposed to be a shitpost but I'm taking this WAY too seriously. I mean it, the amount of time I spent weaving both plots together is ridiculous. But no, there won't be any glimmering vampires here, only Saints in disguise. 
> 
> Title is from the [best song from the best part of the movie,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xsp3_a-PMTw) because seriously? How could I ever pick something else? And I found [this comic](https://twitter.com/rasstegai/status/1153317113848913921) yesterday, so there's that.
> 
> If you can catch all Twilight references, let me know. I hope you'll enjoy whatever I have cooked up this time!

Remire is different from Fhirdiad in many ways.

Firstly, it’s a lot warmer. By now Byleth is well used to the freezing cold of Fhirdiad, having lived there for most of her life, but her favorite moments were the trips to the coast or anywhere else where the weather was pleasant and mild, and there was no need to bundle up in layers of clothes. 

Secondly, it’s more forested. It’s nice to have a lawn that’s not covered in snow for most of the year, with verdant grass to catch morning dew and flower bushes that she will try her hardest to keep alive. There’s even a tree at the end of the driveway. 

Thirdly, Remire is a lot smaller, but that’s not a bad thing. Byleth is fine with small towns. It means more tranquility, less time spent caught in traffic, less people to bump into as you walk on the sidewalks. Small towns are fine. 

Their new house is a two-story building with a little porch at the front and a backyard big enough for a vegetable garden. It’s the kind of house her mom wanted to live in, but never could once they moved to Fhirdiad, a city littered with skyscrapers. She had been happy in their apartment regardless, filling every space of it with succulents and pothos plants to make it look like the studio apartments she saw in TV shows. 

Boxes fill every free space of their living room; it’s going to take a long time to unpack everything, but that’s also okay. Cleaning their last home had been something they always did together, she and her father, so this won’t be much different. They work well together.

The first thing they do is place as many framed pictures on the mantle of the hearth as they can, most of which have her mother’s face in them. Only a few depict the long years after her passing, like Byleth’s high school graduation and, most recently, her college graduation. They’ve always liked it best to have Sitri smiling at them than have either Byleth or Jeralt (or worse, _both_ ) posing awkwardly for the camera. 

Her dad takes one of the boxes to the kitchen to start unpacking the utensils. She makes herself comfortable on the floor of the living room, sorting through the many books they brought from Fhirdiad. “Dad? What exactly brought us to Remire? I don’t think you ever told me in detail.” 

His sigh is audible from the kitchen. Jeralt had never been okay with this sudden move, and to this day she’s trying to figure out what made him leave Fhirdiad. “Remember last summer when we went to the park? There was this shelter holding a pet adoption event and you really wanted to get a cat.” 

“I remember.” And adopt a cat she did, a little Ordelian called Sothis. Her dad hadn’t even batted an eyelash when she revealed the name, being a history major and all, not to mention the name of the imaginary friend Byleth had when younger. 

“We ran into this guy and- well, he used to be a coworker. Turns out, he spoke about me to the principal of this high school, and she arranged with the dean of Fhirdiad U to have me transferred here.” 

Byleth glances up from the books to see him rummaging through the fridge. Did no one ever ask her dad if really wanted to leave? And how come the principal of a high school managed to sway the dean of a prestigious institution such as the University of Fhirdiad to just give up the head of security? “What now?” 

“Same job, different place, it seems.” The couch creaks as her dad plops down on it, offering her a cool can of soda. He grumbles as he pops open his bottle of beer. “I’m too old to be dealing with teenagers again, but the money is good, so I might as well put up with them.” 

Her drink sizzles as she takes a sip of the orange flavored soda. “How good is this high school anyway?”

“Garreg Mach Academy? It’s the oldest school in the history of Fódlan. Seriously, it dates very far back in the history books as I’m sure you’ve seen. It’s a private institution and the tuition is really expensive, so only the snotty rich kids go there.” He takes a large swig of his beer and smacks his lips. “You can come with me tomorrow if you’d like to see it from up close.” 

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Byleth puts the can away and goes back to sorting the books.

* * *

“There it is,” her dad declares, pointing ahead without removing his hand from the steering wheel, “Garreg Mach Academy.” 

Even if he hadn’t said anything, it would be impossible to miss the building standing atop the Oghma Mountains. Although, Byleth has to say she would have called it a fortress instead of a high school, given how old the building looks even after so many renovations. It’s like the ancient quality of it refuses to disappear beneath newer materials and techniques, but she thinks the old castle aesthetic might be kept on purpose. 

Their website stated that this used to be a monastery where the first archbishop supervisioned the Church of Seiros, the only religion back then. Nowadays, with the influx of outsiders coming to Fódlan, it’s just one religion of many. Her mother had been a devout of the Goddess Sothis, and Byleth is familiar with these teachings as the Church has always been deeply linked with the history of Fódlan.

Her dad drives up the road to the academy, heading to the faculty parking lot without as much as reading the signs. “Never thought I’d come back here,” he says to himself, looking through the windshield at the looming building.

“You’ve been here before?” 

“I used to work here, yes.” They unbuckle their seatbelts and step out of the car. “It’s where I met your mother.” 

“Mom used to work here?” They have pictures of her everywhere, and Byleth sometimes watches an old video or two of the karate classes her mother recorded when Byleth was just a kid, but they don’t talk much of the late Sitri Eisner. She thinks her dad still hasn’t gotten over her death, and Byleth is not about to go asking about her mother if it makes him sad. Still, whenever he mentions her, Byleth gobbles it all up like a starving baby bird. 

Jeralt nods, locking the car with the press of a button and leading the way into the building. “She was the school nurse. I saw her often enough. Working to keep a place well secured means you get a few scrapes once in a while.” 

A security guard stands by a pair of tall front doors and extends his hand to check their IDs. “Greetings, professor! Captain!” Jeralt grumbles unintelligibly as he passes, and Byleth offers the guard a ghost of a smile in return, thoroughly confused by his greeting. Professor? Who? 

Inside, little lamps on the chandeliers replace burning candles, and speakers are placed in the corners of the ceiling for announcements. The marble on the floor, likely original from centuries back, forms a beautiful pattern of black and ivory that has been polished to the point of reflecting their shoes. It’s a grand place with a too high ceiling and a long red carpet that seems more fitting for a royal palace than a monastery or high school.

A courtyard with quaint gazebos and neatly trimmed hedges awaits outside, the grass freshly tended to if the smell is any indication of it. From what she has seen so far, she now understands why the number of zeroes in their tuition that she looked up late last night. 

As she’s observing their surroundings, her dad stops halfway to the next building, and she follows his gaze to a balcony on the second floor. A woman watches them, her long pale green hair falling over her shoulders and down her back, her face unreadable from this distance. Jeralt stares at her for a while longer before resuming their walk. 

“That’s Rhea,” he supplies as they cross a room with tables on both sides. For group studying sessions perhaps? Or are they for meals? “She’s the principal of this Academy.” 

Up a set of stairs they go, the passageway just wide enough for two people. It’s like she’s walking through a historical site or an old building turned museum, especially when Jeralt leads them to a room with large stained glass windows casting colorful light over the couches of minimalistic design placed at the center of the room. The sunlight streaming through the window at the back frames the feminine figure standing at the end of the room. Like this, she’s almost ethereal. 

Rhea closes the distance between them, her smile both cool and sweet at once. Her pristine white midi dress has puffy sleeves, and it suits both her and the general aesthetic of the Academy. “It is a pleasure to have you with us again, Jeralt.” 

“Yes,” he begins, leaving out the part where he wasn’t given a choice. “A pleasure.” 

Green eyes turn to Byleth next, sparkling with curiosity as Rhea assesses her. “And you must be Byleth. My Goddess, how you have grown. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She holds her hand out, and Rhea takes it, her skin soft and cool like her voice. Her touch is gentle, but it lingers long enough that Byleth starts feeling uncomfortable. She slips her hands into the pockets of her jacket as soon as Rhea releases her hand, trying to play it off as casual.

If Rhea notices it, she doesn’t show. She tells them to sit just as a man emerges from the adjacent room with a tray of tea in his hands. Compared to Rhea, his hair and eyes are many shades of green darker. The fragrant smell of tea fills the room and distracts Byleth from her own discomfort, and she thanks him quietly as he sets a cup and saucer in front of her on the low center table. 

He sits on the other end of the couch Rhea is occupying. Unlike her, he doesn’t offer them any smile at all. “I am Seteth, Garreg Mach Academy’s vice-principal. I was informed by Rhea that you will be our new history teacher.” 

Jeralt shares a mildly confused glance with Byleth. It’s clear Seteth is directing his words at him, hence why Rhea speaks up to clarify, “Not him. Her.” 

Byleth halts all movements, holding the cup up to her lips just as she’s about to sip the strongly spiced tea. Both her father and the vice-principal seem as shocked by the admission as she is, and Seteth is the one to react first. “Miss Rhea, you cannot be serious about this. She looks barely older than some of the students here.” 

“I am certain about my choice,” is all she says, and though there’s no difference in the tone of her voice, it holds a finality that they know better than to question. “She will be a fine addition to the faculty.” 

“That is great for her resumé and all,” Jeralt begins after knocking back the tea like it’s some vodka shot. Byleth really wishes the contents of her cup were actually some kind of strong liquor. Goddess knows she needs it right now. “But she’s just graduated university.” 

Rhea finally glances away from Byleth and looks at him as if she’s just noticed he’s in the room. 

“I- uh- I would rather be someone’s teaching assistant,” Byleth says, slowly, unsure if she should protest in any way. 

Seteth nods gravely. “Yes, I-”

“Nonsense,” Rhea interrupts smoothly, putting her teacup down to slide two stacks of paper on the table closer to father and daughter. “I have full faith in your capabilities as teacher. Now, please, both of you sign this. School starts next week, but you can start right away, Jeralt. The Academy is full of historical valuables and we are always on high alert, with or without students here.” 

Byleth takes the pen resting on top of the documents. It feels weird in her left hand, like an odd weight, a strange object she’s never held before. As uncertain as she is about this, she wasn’t given the chance to decline, much like her father when he was relocated to this place. 

She risks a glance at Seteth to find him frowning deeply at her and promptly looks away, pretending to read the documents. Once her father flips to the very last page, she waits a few moments before doing the same and signing her name at the bottom of the page. 

When Rhea smiles at her as she hands over the documents, Byleth finds herself suppressing a shudder.

* * *

Jeralt offers to walk her to the teachers’ lounge. As soon as he closes the doors to the meeting room, Seteth’s muffled voice can be heard from the other side. Her father says nothing, but places a supporting hand on her shoulder before leading her away from the one sided argument. 

He taps a door as they pass and opens it a fraction to allow her to see a couple of monitors inside. “This is my office. Again.” Some steps ahead, he motions to another door and declares it to be the infirmary, ignoring the other doors on the other side of the hallway.

Two left turns later and they reach the teachers’ lounge at the very end of that corridor. There’s a small kitchen area for making tea or brewing coffee, comfortable looking seats with soft decorative pillows, desks for those who want to do some extra work, and a long table in the middle for faculty meetings. 

With classes starting soon, most of the teachers are here planning their schedules. A woman with a bob cut notices them at the door and quickly walks over before Jeralt can leave. “You must be our new history teacher? How handsome and stern you are.”

He doesn’t cringe at her purring tone, but it’s a close thing. “Nah, it’s her.” Jeralt pats her back lightly before giving Byleth a slight push forward. “Good luck, kid. You know where to find me.” 

Byleth watches wordlessly as he strolls down the hall back the way they came. She feels suddenly and strangely lost right then, left alone in a room with strangers who actually know how to perform their jobs while she’s still struggling to process that she was hired as a teacher when she doesn’t have enough experience for that.

“My, you’re awfully young, aren’t you?” The woman muses, eyes warm and filled with sympathy. Byleth must have expressed on her face how helpless she feels and she quickly schools her expression again. “That hardly matters, though. I’m Manuela, pleased to meet you.” 

“I’m Byleth,” she offers lamely, taking the woman’s soft hand in a handshake. 

“I’m the biology teacher, a physician, and a songstress.” She winks and pulls Byleth deeper into the room. “I used to be in the Mittelfrank Opera Company a few years back. The beautiful, peerless diva-” 

“Are you boring her already with your needless chatter about the opera, Manuela?” An older man approaches, frowning at Manuela in disapproval. His mustache is impressive and... Monocles are still acceptable fashion items, right? 

Manuela groans and shoos him away with a hand like he’s no more than a pesky fly. “No one invited you into the conversation, Hanneman.” 

Rolling his eyes, he ignores Manuela as if she’s never said anything and addresses Byleth. “I’m Hanneman, teacher of social studies. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Byleth.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, let me tell you more about the rest of the faculty.” Manuela loops her arm casually with Byleth’s and waves at the couch. “That’s Catherine, the physics teacher, and Shamir, the languages teacher. Their personalities are polar opposites, but they’re very good friends.”

“The one struggling with the coffee machine is Alois.” Hanneman sighs, motioning to the tiny kitchen area. “He’s not a teacher, but he comes here often to raid our coffee.” 

“Oh, I know him,” Byleth says, recalling the pet adoption event last summer. “He’s a friend of my dad’s, I think?”

Hanneman huffs quietly. “Hopefully your father can teach him how operate a coffee machine.” 

“He isn’t here now, but Jeritza is the physical education teacher,” Manuela says, touching her fingers to her chin. “Not much to say about him, I’m afraid. He keeps to himself.” 

“I’m sure you’ve met Seteth already,” Hanneman says, and Byleth doesn’t tell him of the vice-principal’s visible discontentment at having her as the newest member of the faculty. “He doubles as the math teacher too.” 

“On the topic of Seteth...” 

Manuela trails off and steers Byleth to face the work desks. Two men quietly talk together as they pack up their laptops in their bags. Byleth doesn’t understand what they have to do with Seteth until she takes in the colors of their hair, the shades of green reminding her of the serious, stern man who offered her tea. Are they related, perhaps? 

“Taller one is Michael, the chemistry teacher,” Manuela continues. His hair color is close to Seteth’s, though slightly lighter and long enough that it can be braided, the tip of the plait reaching just past his shoulders blades. “His siblings call him Mac, not sure why. See how hard he’s frowning? He seemingly hates everyone around him. One might think he hates the human race itself.” 

“The other one is our geography teacher, Isaac.” This one’s hair is lighter and shorter, tied in a tight, neat bun at the base of his skull. Hanneman strokes his mustache as he continues his explanation, “Social interaction is not his finest trait, but he’s exceptionally patient with the students.”

Byleth turns to Manuela. “You mentioned Michael has siblings?”

“The three of them are brothers. Oh, Flayn is their little sister, but she won’t be coming until classes start. I got to meet her once. She’s a lovely little lady.” Manuela smiles and pats Byleth’s arm softly. “Let’s get you settled in, professor.” 

* * *

In the few days leading up to the beginning of the school year, Byleth reserves one of them to getting acquainted with the layout of the Academy and its many facilities. 

This being a former monastery, she isn’t surprised to see a large cathedral placed behind the faculty building. A dome at the very center illuminates the grand space with bright sunlight whilst the stained glass windows depicting holy, historical events cast colorful beams of light on the statue of the Goddess placed on the dais. Rows of pews occupy part of the area, currently empty at this time of the day. Outsiders come here often to pray throughout the year, hence why so much security is needed. 

A set of double doors lie to the left, guarded by two men who nod at her in acknowledgement, probably recognizing her as their new boss’s daughter. On the other side of the cathedral is a small chapel reserved for the Four Saints, their statues made of faded gold. Byleth stands there examining their features and recalling their stories, the deeds she read in books not very long ago. 

Next, she heads to the training grounds. The place has a medieval sound to it, and soon she understands why. The actual gym occupies just a small portion of it, while the rest of the space is reserved for the many sports clubs that the Academy offers. From boxing to fencing, equestrian sports to archery, pole vaulting to swimming; the Academy offers it all. This really is the most elite high school in the country. Not to mention, most of the competitors in the Fódlan Olympic Games borrow the facilities occasionally to train. 

She understands now why it’s so expensive studying here, more so when she comes across the dormitories on her way out of the training grounds. This is also a boarding school, with uniforms for the students _and_ the faculty. Manuela had been showing a generous portion of cleavage in the few times Byleth met her, and she’s sure that her outfit will be replaced by something that covers her up to the neck.

A greenhouse awaits at the end of the path, filled with colorful flowers and patches of vegetable gardens. Byleth spends a long time looking through the blooms, trying to picture her mother here. Sitri had loved flowers when she was alive, and Byleth loved gifting her any and every flower she found outside. 

Right next to the greenhouse is a large pond of water with fishes of different sizes swimming idly. At the end of the pier, she spares some time to recall the times her father had took her fishing as a child, and then moves up a set of stairs to the dining hall. Long tables with benches occupy the space, with one of them reserved for the faculty of the Academy. 

From there, she visits the classrooms, big enough to accommodate around thirty students comfortably. She will often switch between the three classes throughout the week as she teaches the different years. The teacher’s desk at the front is made of old, but sturdy wood, and the blackboard is clean and waiting to be scribbled upon. 

The last place to visit is the library, and it’s there where she spends the rest of the week, surrounded by books of varying ages and states of conservation as she puts together a lesson plan for the semester. She has enough books and materials at home, but making use of the extensive collection of the Academy is too good an opportunity to pass. She loses herself in the texts more often than not, only realizing that she forgot to write down annotations a couple of pages later. 

She’s on the second floor of the library scribbling away on her notebook when someone approaches her. It’s Isaac, the geography teacher, whom she hadn’t had the opportunity to greet properly until now. 

“Good afternoon,” he greets politely, lips curling in a slight smile. “You must be the new history teacher Seteth told me about. My apologies for not introducing myself before. I am Isaac.” 

Byleth holds her hand out and grasps his firmly in greeting. “It’s not like I introduced myself before, either. I’m Byleth.”

Isaac looks over the stacks of book and the organized mess of notes on the desk, and chuckles softly. “I can see you have been very busy with your research. It is always heartwarming to see youths such as yourself working so diligently.” He balances a particularly heavy looking tome on his hip and calls, “Mac, come meet the new professor.” 

A grunt from downstairs is the only answer he gets, and soon quiet footsteps reach their ears as his brother moves towards the stairs to meet them on the mezzanine. Michael’s dark green hair is tied in its usual plait again, now resting over his shoulder, and he’s got his own stack of books in hand. He walks over to his brother, not trying to mask the look on his face that says he would rather be anywhere but here. Byleth doesn’t mind his sour expression, even when he inhales and his face scrunches up like some foul stench has just filled his lungs. 

“Ugh,” he turns his face away, holding up the piled books with a single hand as the other comes up to cover his nose. “She stinks.” 

Byleth’s only response is to lift an eyebrow and discreetly lower her head to catch a whiff of her shirt. Strange, it smells of the new lavender soap her dad bought. Maybe he doesn’t like lavender?

“Please, forgive him, Byleth.” Isaac rushes to say, casting a very disapproving look at his brother. “It is just that Mac’s nose is sensitive. The dust of the old books must be irritating his nostrils.” 

“I understand,” she says, not buying it at all, but Isaac seems to believe that she is none the wiser. She makes no moves to shatter that illusion and instead turns her sights to Michael. “Why does he call you Mac? Is it short for Michael?”

“Why do you not mind your own-”

“Mac!” 

“Ugh, fine. No,” he replies curtly, the back of his hand pressed to his nose in an attempt to block the awful scent only he can smell. It seems to be all that he is willing to say, but Byleth’s relentless staring must unnerve him, because he continues after a few moments of silence. “It is a nickname. It is short for-” for a moment, he looks like he’s in pain. The lines of his frown deepen dramatically, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head. “...Mackerel.” 

“What?” A fish, really? There’s no way this is true. Did he just make this up? “You’re kidding, right?”

It’s quiet between the three of them for a few beats, with Michael now covering his face again and Isaac seemingly scrambling for the right words. “Hahaha!” His abrupt laugh startles Byleth enough that she jumps slightly. “Flayn gave him that nickname when she was little and it stuck. Children, am I right? If you will excuse us, professor, we really have to go.” 

Isaac grabs Michael’s arm and gives her one last polite smile before dragging his brother down the stairs and out of sight. She hears the faint traces of a discussion begin shortly before they leave the library, but their voices are too quiet for her to make sense of the words. 

Having lost her train of thought, Byleth turns back to her books and attempts to resume her work.

* * *

Somehow, she manages to get some sleep the night before the first day of class. She showers, dresses, and goes over her notes for the first day as she cooks a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttered toast. Coffee for her dad in one mug and black tea for her in the other, they sit across one another as they eat in silence, the gentle rustle of turning pages and cutlery the only sounds between them.

Byleth had been given the unofficial title of Fhirdiad U’s Best Poker Face in all her years enrolled there, and although she can mask her thoughts very well, she’s still an open book to her dad. He gives her a reassuring smile as they lock the door of their home, and pats her head one last time before they leave the car. 

There are more vehicles in the parking lot today, and the buzz of distant voices is carried by the wind. The students are mingling already, enjoying the minutes left until the bell tolls.

She walks to the teachers’ lounge for one last look through her notes and a cup of herbal tea to settle her nerves. Though her face is impassive, it doesn’t stop Manuela from sautering up to her to give her own words of reassurance. Byleth thanks her kindly and offers a slight smile, and accepts more ressurances from other teachers such as Hanneman and Catherine.

Still not feeling ready in the slightest, but with no more time left to idle about, Byleth is the last to leave the lounge. As she’s passing by the hall with offices, Seteth is waiting just outside one of the doors, presumably his office, with three sheets of paper in his hand. 

He may not be fond of her and may want to get rid of her as soon as an opportunity arises, but she still stops to greet him politely. “Good morning, Seteth.” 

“Good morning, professor.” He inclines his head and offers her the papers, the attendance lists. “Your first class is with the first year. They are new students, so make sure to give them a good first impression. The reputation of this institution depends on your behavior.” 

Byleth takes the papers and neatly tucks them into the book she’s carrying. Would it kill him to give her some credit and put some faith in her? Even his brother commended her for preparing so thoroughly for the classes.

As she’s about to leave after a nod of acknowledgement, he stops her with a brief touch to her arm. “One more thing.”

She turns to him again, bracing herself for his next words. “Yes?”

Seteth sets his jaw as he searches for the right words. “My sister is in the first year. If you witness any individuals making advances on her, warn the perpetrators of their peril.” 

Her eyebrows rise in surprise. He’s very... Overprotective, isn’t he? “Of course.” With yet another nod, she excuses herself and resumes her walk to the classrooms. 

Loud chattering can be heard some steps away from the classroom. Byleth stands out of their sight to inhale deeply one last time, squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, and trying to gather her wits. The voices quieten as she walks into the room, the short heels of her shoes clicking on the ancient, but well maintained stone floor. Her high collared white button up blouse is nearly suffocating, but still she forces air into her lungs and keeps her face composed. 

Placing her things on her desk, she quietly exhales before looking at the students, all pairs of eyes staring intently at her. “Good morning and welcome to Garreg Mach Academy. I’m Byleth and I’ll be your history teacher.”

She isn’t one to mind silence, but it is quite overwhelming when nearly thirty students are all looking at her without uttering a single word. She picks the attendance list Seteth gave her earlier and perches herself on the edge of the desk, forgetting all about his talk of maintaining a good appearance. 

“I’ll go over the attendance list so I can know who each of you are, and then we can get to know each other better. Sounds good?” Nods all around, and a few voiced affirmations here and there. Good.

Annette, a ginger girl with bangs and hair tied in two knots behind her head. Ashe, a freckled young man with silver hair and bright green eyes. Bernadetta, messy purple hair, sitting slouched and hiding behind her hoodie. 

Caspar, bright blue hair and eyes, an energetic disposition and wide grin. Claude, styled hair and easy smile, winks his green eyes at her as he raises his hand. Cyril, red eyes and a scar on his forehead, a little too serious for someone so young. 

Dimitri, blonde hair that falls over sky blue eyes, he offers her a polite smile as he answers the attendance. Edelgard, light brown hair and lilac eyes, could give Seteth a run for his money given the way she is analyzing Byleth. 

Felix, dark hair tied in a bun and scowl on his face, arms tightly crossed over his chest. Ferdinand, hair as perfectly coiffed as his perfect posture, hands clasped together over his notebook. 

“Flayn?” She calls out, and a girl on the second row raises her hand, sharing her desk with a sleepy looking boy who rests his cheek on his arms.

She has bright green hair that falls over her shoulders in large curls, and equally bright green eyes framed by dark lashes. “Present!” Flayn is, by far, the one most excited to be here if her large grin is any indication of it, and Byleth can’t help herself from returning it.

Smile still in place, Byleth turns back to the attendance list. “Ignatz?” 

* * *

At half past noon, Byleth walks to the faculty table in the dining hall with a tray of food in hands. Her students had asked many questions about her, and she in turn asked them about their goals in life and favorite events of Fódlan’s history. She’s sure she has never talked this much before, so it’s understandable that she’s _very_ hungry after talking so much for so long.

One of the students claimed to know her father, though Byleth honestly can’t remember if Jeralt ever mentioned Leonie Pinelli before. She will have to ask him later.

Settling down beside Manuela, who gives her a smile in greeting, Byleth picks up her cutlery to cut into the fish on her plate. “How was it?” The biology teacher asks, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“It wasn’t as bad as I expected,” Byleth replies honestly before placing a piece of fish in her mouth. The meat is tender and perfectly seasoned. She lets out a quiet noise of delight that makes Manuela laugh and shake her head lightly.

“The food here is simply divine, yes?” Her large grin softens into a smile. “I’m glad your first day has been fine so far. I heard from Shamir that her son was in your first class. He seems to have enjoyed it.”

“Cyril, yes? He was one of the few to write down notes from start to finish.” Along with his desk partner, a girl with platinum hair named Lysithea, if she recalls correctly. 

Byleth has taken a few more bites of her food by the time small, dainty hands lower a tray of food to the table and someone slips into the vacant space on her other side. It’s no teacher, but rather Flayn, who offers her a wide and brilliant smile. “Hello, professor! That was a delightful introductory class! I very much enjoyed it!” 

Of course Flayn would have her meals here seeing as her three brothers are members of the faculty. Although, now that Byleth can look at the four of them at once, with Michael being the one sitting the farthest away from her, she sees that Flayn seems much, much younger than her brothers. Huh.

She blinks once at the girl and smiles gently as Seteth sits across from Byleth. “I’m glad to hear it. It was the first class I ever taught, so I was pretty nervous.” 

“Truly? But you walked into the classroom so confidently!” Flayn’s green eyes seem to shine more so than usual now that she’s found that particular fact amazing. “How did you pull it off so seamlessly?” 

Byleth shrugs one shoulder halfheartedly. “Fake it till you make it?”

As Flayn nods seriously, taking the words to heart, and Seteth gives Byleth another inscrutable look, Isaac leans closer to his brother to join the conversation. “I taught the first year afterwards. They had many good things to say.” 

“Ah,” Byleth looks down at her plate, flustered at the attention and unsure of what to say. It had been just one class and she didn’t even delve much into history itself. Maybe they liked her personality?

To her left, Manuela laughs quietly into her glass of water before slinging an arm around Byleth’s shoulders. “Hold back on the praises a little, my dears. Our new professor is shy.” 

Oh no, is she blushing? As Manuela’s finger pokes her cheek and confirms her suspicions, her skin flares up with more heat and more color. Isaac wordlessly extracts himself from the conversation with a smile, and Seteth, after watching her for a while longer, gets Flayn to join him and his brothers in prayer before finally taking the first bite of their meals. 

Byleth inhales deeply and resumes eating, trying to ignore the assessing gaze piercing her from across the table.


	2. familiar scenery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *vague hand gestures* I reread this like twice so it should be fine for posting lkhahfjha
> 
> Here's a [small guide](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/552212080401580065/695084460592594944/classes.jpg) for each year, the students and the two clubs they signed up for (obligatory NPCs not included on the list). 
> 
> tbh I thought I was kinda reaching when I said Garreg Mach had an equestrian club; I just needed some reason for the tuition to be so expensive (also, it's a big place, something had to be done with all that space), but it seems some high schools actually have these clubs? Wow
> 
> Anyway :^) Enjoy!

Slowly, she grows used to teaching at the Academy. Her students aren’t bad, aside from the few that sleep during lectures (Linhardt) or those who are too energetic to stay put and pay attention (Caspar), or even too lazy to do anything (Hilda). And yet, they are good kids, and day by day she learns how to get them motivated to do their work correctly. Be it taking a moment to speak with them after class for some encouragement, or explaining the potential she sees in them as they walk to the dining hall, Byleth reaches out and does her best to help. 

With the faculty, things are progressing just as smoothly. Michael continues to avoid her like the plague, but she has already bought a new laundry detergent of a different scent that should be easier on his nose. Seteth still looks at her as if she belongs among the students and not with the faculty, but every once in a while they have a brief, civilized conversation. Isaac is easily the one who’s warmed up to her the most out of the three, though it is in that quiet, polite way of his.

Shamir doesn’t say much, but occasionally converses with Byleth when they’re alone on the faculty table in the dining hall or the teachers’ lounge. Catherine already invited her to several girls’ night out every friday to celebrate the incoming weekend, and Byleth always gets roped into her drinking contests (and wins most of the time). Manuela is rapidly becoming her closest peer in the Academy, saving her a seat every lunch and offering help whenever she can, which Byleth returns in kind.

Hanneman is serious and well educated, anda walking encyclopedia. He has much to share about anything and everything, though his favorite topic are the long faded Crests, the reason why so many wars broke across Fódlan throughout its history. Only a few percentage of the population have traces of Crests in their bloods, but it is so thinned out that no power can be drawn from them. Not to mention that they just aren’t relevant to society anymore. 

And then there’s Jeritza. He’s a peculiar man, deathly quiet and apathetic in the rare times he speaks. He’s always wearing sunglasses to conceal his eyes, even indoors, and sometimes Byleth has the feeling that he’s staring at her intently. Manuela’s best attempts to get him to join a conversation are brushed aside, and no one really knows much about him at all. 

All in all, these have been a good few weeks, and she’s making plans to make her classes more interesting for her students. History is one of the less stimulating subjects in high school, as it requires the students to merely listen, take notes and read endless books. No need to calculate an equation, or learn about the proper composition of a text, or mix different chemicals. Listening to your teacher drone on and on about a topic relentlessly gets boring very quickly.

Thus her scheduled meeting with Rhea. Outside the principal’s office, the very same room from where Seteth once emerged with tea, Byleth smooths her shirt and pats her skirt before knocking on the door. When she enters, Rhea is in a small sitting area, pouring hot tea into cups. 

She smiles and lowers the fine teapot to the silver tray. “Good afternoon, Byleth. Please, take a seat. I was delighted when Seteth informed me that you wished to speak with me.” 

Byleth sits across from her and accepts a teacup with a quiet thank you. “Much to his dismay, I’m not here to resign from my teaching position.” 

Rhea laughs quietly and reclines in her plush couch, delicately holding the saucer in her hands. “Forgive him, Byleth. Seteth has the best intentions at heart, I can assure you.” She sips the tea, eyelids falling closed briefly. “It has been almost a month since you joined us. Tell me, have you been enjoying your time at the Academy?” 

“I have,” she replies readily, waiting for her tea to cool down a little more. “The students are great, and the faculty members are so nice too.” 

“I am glad to hear it.” Rhea offers her another smile and crosses her legs. “Tell me, to what do I owe this visit?” 

Byleth takes a moment to find the right words. “I’ve been teaching the students of the first year about the very beginning of the history of Fódlan. Before I delved into the establishment of the old Adrestian Empire, I brushed over the rumors of the Red Canyon and, well, the students got curious.” 

Rhea’s eyes glimmer with curiosity, perhaps, and Byleth’s skin prickles under her gaze. “I was not aware that you know the rumors of the Red Canyon, professor.”

“I do.” It’s hard not to know when you’re a history major. “That is why I was wondering if you would permit me to take the students to Zanado for a day, since it’s relatively close to the Academy.” 

“Of course,” Rhea replies instantly. “I will have Seteth arrange the transportation to Zanado. Would you like to take the other two classes as well?” 

“If that is fine with you, then yes, please.” She is sure the other years would appreciate a different class as well. “I was thinking it could be a joint class with Professor Isaac. He could teach about the local geography.”

Rhea nods and smiles. She looks almost excited at the prospect of sending Byleth and the students to Zanado, and Byleth can’t imagine why. “Very well. I will see to it.” 

* * *

As she’s preparing for the upcoming field trip, Byleth visits the Chapel of Saints once again, this time with a notebook and pen tucked under her arm. She’s been reading about the history of the Children of the Goddess again, Saint Seiros and the Four Saints.

Though she knows most of their deeds by heart, a little extra research never hurt anyone. She’s poured over ancient scrolls and tomes in the library in her free time, and she thinks the plaques in front of the statues might offer her some information she’s missed or has never seen before. 

Byleth is comparing her annotations with the description on the statue of Saint Cethleann when both Seteth and Flayn join her in the little chapel. 

“Good evening, professor!” Flayn chirps, skipping to her side excitedly. “What brings you to the Chapel of Saints?” 

“Hey, Flayn. Just doing a little more research for the field trip.” Byleth closes her notebook and tucks it under her arm again. Seteth approaches and comes to stand behind his sister. “What about you?” 

“We come here often to pray,” she says, looking up at the visage of Saint Cethleann. Byleth follows her gaze, studying the statue’s features quietly. “You did mention that you rather enjoy the stories surrounding the Saints, did you not?” She nods, looking down at Flayn again. “Which one is your favorite, professor?”

Behind the teenager, Seteth seems to have frozen. Byleth purses her lips together in thought and looks at the four statues in the chapel, recalling each of their deeds. Macuil was often praised for his flawless strategies and his work as master tactician under Saint Seiros, not to mention his mastery of the magical arts, now long extinct. Indech was known to be an indomitable warrior, and his wisdom and adeptness are often mentioned in texts that depict his deeds.

Cichol was stern and compassionate, said to be capable of performing miracles thanks to his unprecedented faith in the Goddess, and also the father of Saint Cethleann. She, who in turn was known for her kindness and empathetic, with unparalleled abilities to heal severe wounds with white magic. 

Byleth touches a finger to her chin and hums. “I suppose it’s Saint Cichol.”

“Pardon?” Seteth speaks for the first time since their arrival. He sounds startled. “What about him has caught your attention?” 

“Well,” she makes a vague gesture towards the two statues across the chapel. “The stories of Saint Indech and Saint Macuil were... Repetitive, to be honest. Sure, the circumstances weren’t always the same, but it usually involved a skirmish or a battle. That can get old after a while. I prefer Saint Cichol’s stories, and Saint Cethleann’s, because of their variety.” 

Flayn is nodding enthusiastically as she speaks, eyes sparkling once again. Either Byleth has become her new favorite person, or she’s as passionate about the Saints as a history major is expected to be. “Oh, I would love to talk with you about their stories!” 

“That is quite enough, Flayn.” Seteth chides, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulder and making her visibly wilt. “I am sure the professor knows all there is to know already.” 

Byleth tries hard not to frown at him. “I wouldn’t mind-”

“No,” he cuts her off, severely stern over a trivial matter. “Besides, you are too busy as it is, and Flayn cannot afford to get distracted from her studies.” 

Flayn wrings her hands together and looks down at her shoes, clearly crestfallen. Byleth feels a pang of sadness at the sight, and can’t stop herself from reaching out and patting the girl on the head consolingly, much like her own father does sometimes. Flayn lifts her head to look at her with wide eyes, and Byleth purposefully ignores Seteth’s presence in that moment. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of opportunities to speak about it during class, okay?” Flayn nods slowly, and Byleth offers her another smile. “Great. I’ll see you later.” 

Seteth clenches his jaw as she nods at him, and Byleth exits the Chapel of Saints.

* * *

The end of the Harpstring Moon approaches, and with it comes the day of the field trip. Outside one of the buses rented for the occasion, Byleth checks the students’ names on the attendance list as they enter the vehicle. Isaac is doing the same for the students of the second year, while Seteth self-appointed himself as the teacher who will oversee the third year during the trip. 

Flayn grins up at her before quickly climbing into the yellow school bus, probably so none of her brothers will try to get her to ride with them instead. She saves a seat at the very front for Byleth and starts a conversation about the Saints as the driver takes them down to Zanado. 

It’s hot outside with very few clouds in the sky. Byleth, at the behest of Manuela, instructed all the students to bring water, sunscreen and a hat of any kind. She puts on a plain black cap and sunglasses before hopping out of the bus and helping the students, telling them to stick together and not wander off on their own. In no time, the three classes have mingled together. She sees Mercedes from the third year chatting with Annette, and Dorothea from the second year quickly joins with Bernadetta and Petra. 

One of the students of the second year whistles as she joins with Seteth and Isaac at the front of the students. “Looking good, professor!” 

“Thanks, Sylvain,” she says dryly, adjusting the straps of her small backpack. They have all traded the usual uniforms and dress shirts for more comfortable wear, sneakers and flexible clothing. In hindsight, maybe the tight leggings are improper for a teacher to wear, but oh well. Too late now. 

Seteth keeps an eye on the students as Isaac and Byleth lead the group through the canyon. The geography teacher talks about the composition of the rocks and the earth in this area, and why it makes this a barren land, often picking up a pebble from the arid ground or knocking on the sturdy stones that surround them. Vegetation here is nonexistent, save for a few rare shrubs that look so dry they might as well already be dead.

Soon they come across old ruins, broken pillars and collapsed walls. Isaac gestures with a hand for her to take over, hopping off a rock he climbed so the students at the back could see him better. She takes his place, wisps of hair coming loose from her ponytail and dancing about her face as a gust of wind sweeps over the area. 

“As I mentioned before, it is rumored that the Goddess Sothis and her children settled down in this exact location thousands of years ago.” The students begin wandering through the ruins, looking curiously at what remains standing. “The architecture found here cannot be linked to any other era or culture that ever inhabited Fódlan.” 

“Do you believe this was really created by the Goddess?” Edelgard asks, standing not too far from Byleth. “Or by some other civilization not recorded in history books?”

Byleth tilts her head as she considers the question. “It’s hard to tell, to be honest. It could be either. One thing is certain: this culture has long since perished, before the establishment of the Adrestian Empire even.” 

Behind Edelgard, Hilda lifts a hand as she fans herself with the other. “Why is it called the Red Canyon? This doesn’t look red to me.” 

“Good question. There are many theories about the name. Some historians believe that the color had a deeper meaning to the culture that once occupied this place. The color red is often symbolizes courage, strength, power, passion, even anger. Some believe the inhabitants could have been a warrior tribe that painted their faces and bodies with red paint before battle, or that they simply decorated their homes with the color for certain events.”

“What is another theory about this place?” Ashe asks from where he and Caspar are analyzing one of the broken pillars.

“Another widely accepted theory is that there once was a massacre in this very place.” She spreads her arms to refer to Zanado as a whole. “Given that there is no other trace of this culture, whatever it may have been, it is entirely possible that it was wiped out.” 

“Do you believe in any of these theories, professor?” Yuri questions, standing further back from the group. 

Byleth considers the ruins for a brief moment and catches both Nabatea brothers standing off to the side, now watching her instead of observing the canyon. They both have their arms crossed, shoulders tight with tension, and Isaac’s usual mild expression has been replaced by an uncomfortable frown. Did she say something wrong? Are they not liking her methods?

Something stirs inside her as she turns her eyes to another broken home, like a memory that is just out of her reach, and she frowns lightly as a sense of familiarity washes over her. She is sure she has never been to this place before, not even in all her years as a student, and yet... 

“Something tells me... That the civilization was massacred.” She rubs a hand over her heart, trying to dispel the feeling, and clears her throat. “Come on, let’s move.” 

* * *

Isaac directs the students to some other area of Zanado to conduct an outdoor activity he prepared for them, and Byleth looks for a bit of shade to hide under. With the sun climbing up higher and higher in the sky, all she manages to find is a strip of shadow cast by one of the still standing walls.

She sits on the ground and tries to control her breathing, but can’t erase the odd feeling gripping her heart. Something gnaws at the back of her mind, and she can neither understand it nor push it away fully. Byleth wants to text her dad and ask if, by any chance, they have been to this place when she was a kid, but there is no signal here. By the time he gets the message and replies, she will have returned to the Academy already.

As she stays there trying to make sense of the strange sensation, a pair of boots enters her line of sight. She looks up to see Seteth standing over her, his eyebrows pinched as he seemingly judges her for having seated on the dusty ground. “Tired already, professor?” Or he’s just questioning her stamina endurance. 

His tone is as disapproving as the face he makes, but Byleth can’t find it in herself to feel annoyed at him now. She’s still feeling strangely overwhelmed simply for being here, so she says instead, “I think the sun is getting to me.” 

That changes the air around them instantly. He crouches down by her side, his brow is now furrowed with concern as he observes what he can see of her features. “Your skin is indeed flushed. Come, let us get you back to the bus.” Seteth grips her arms to help her stand, keeps his hold on her as her body teethers to the side precariously, and guides her to the vehicles.

Before she goes in, he has her bend forward so he can pour some blessedly cool water on the nape of her neck, making her gasp, and then ushers her inside. Byleth takes off her cap and sunglasses and tosses them into her backpack, and accepts a damp handkerchief he offers, pressing it to her face with a relieved sigh. Seteth quietly sits beside her, using a small book he retrieved from his bag to fan her face.

She huffs humorlessly and mumbles into her hands, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. “My first field trip and look at me. What a disgrace.” 

“It could have happened to anyone,” he reassures, surprising her. Byleth doesn’t look at him as she removes the handkerchief from her face and folds it into a square. “Are you feeling better?” 

“Somewhat.” Aside from the fact that he will now have more reasons to think that she is unfit to teach at the Academy, and her own annoyance directed at herself, everything is fine. She’s much better now that she’s put some distance between her and the ruins. “Thank you.” 

Byleth presses the handkerchief to her forehead and looks outside the windows again at the wide expanse of the canyon, lifeless and still. It hadn’t always been like this, she thinks. This had been a peaceful place bustling with life despite its barren appearance, she’s sure of it, even if she doesn’t know where the thought came from.

“Is something on your mind?” He asks as he passes her a bottle of water.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and accepts the bottle. “Have you been here before, Seteth?” 

Seteth observes her in silence for a moment, searching for something, but she doesn’t know what. “As you are aware, this area is under the direct jurisdiction of Garreg Mach Academy, so yes, I have been here before. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I haven’t been here before, and yet...”

“And yet?” He prompts, quirking a brow.

She shrugs, wiping at the sweat beads on her neck with her palm. “I feel like this place is familiar.” 

“Hmm. Perhaps you recognize it from one of your history books?” Byleth shakes her head, sighing quietly as he starts fanning her face again.

“No, that’s not- somehow I feel like I have been here before, even though it’s impossible.” She drinks another swig of water and chuckles quietly. “Who knows? Maybe I lived here in a past life.” 

Once again, his hand ceases moving. “Do you think you were part of that ancient civilization?”

“It’s possible, if you believe in reincarnation and stuff.” Byleth shrugs lightly. “Or maybe it’s just one of those unexplainable deja vu cases.”

“That sounds more likely,” he concedes, giving her the book so she can fan herself with it. “I will see if Professor Isaac is done with his activity so we can return to the Academy. If you will excuse me.” 

Byleth watches him leave the bus and walk back to the students lingering around the ruins. She doesn’t know why, but she has a feeling their small talk has left him more tense than before. Or he could be thinking that she is too crazy to continue teaching in the Academy. Who knows?

She wipes her face one more time and steps outside to meet with her students as they return from their activity. The teens from the first year flock in her direction, circling her and inquiring about her well being like worried hatchlings as they offer her their water. 

“Professor, are you alright?” Flayn asks, planting herself right in front of Byleth. “Brother said you were feeling unwell.” 

“I’m fine now thanks to him,” she replies, realizing that she is indebted to Seteth now. The thought doesn’t sit well with her. “Alright, kids, into the bus you go. You don’t want to miss lunch, do you?” 

Raphael barrels into the bus, quickly followed by Ingrid, both of which are well known for their love for food. Byleth smiles in their wake and counts the students as they enter, making sure that all of them are present and not hiding somewhere in the canyon. Flayn stands with her until all the students are accounted for, and together they return to the seat they shared. 

* * *

Upon returning to the Academy, Byleth plans on eating her lunch, changing into clean clothes and then sinking into the most comfortable armchair in the teachers’ lounge with a cup of tea to recharge. She’s mostly feeling fine again, but there’s some leftover trace of familiarity that refuses to dissipate. 

She manages to follow through with most of her plan. Catherine and Shamir keep her quieter company during lunch as Manuela bickers with Hanneman, who’s made the poor choice of sitting right by her side despite knowing what it would entail. 

Everything is fine and she’s biting into the last piece of orange when Isaac shows up and timidly asks, “Are you feeling better, Professor Eisner?” 

Manuela, for all of her shortcomings, has some kind of inner radar that catches onto any mention of _health_ in a mile radius even when she’s deep in a heated discussion with Hanneman. She shushes him by raising a hand and hounds onto Byleth, who’s stopped mid chew to stare at the teacher/physician/diva. “What happened in Zanado?” 

“Nothing,” Byleth replies around the bite of orange before swallowing. “Nothing happened. I’m perfectly fine.” 

And then Flayn - pure, sweet Flayn - joins her brother’s side with a tray of her own and pipes up. “The professor started feeling unwell by the end of our trip. If it were not for my brother Seteth, she would have likely fainted.” 

Byleth can’t even bring herself to sigh at her, because Flayn is genuinely just trying to be helpful, so she merely hangs her head and droops her shoulders. “Okay, fine. That happened, but I’m better now.” 

“I will be the judge of that.” Manuela rises from her seat and throws her hands up in the air. “You will be coming to the infirmary with me right now. Honestly! After all the time I spent telling you to take care of yourself out there.” 

“I’m sorry?” Byleth offers namely, standing up on her own volition. Thankfully, the students miss the exchange, distracted as they are talking amongst themselves about the trip, and this scene is nothing new to the faculty. “If it will make you stop worrying once you see that I’m fine, then I’ll go willingly.”

She orderly stacks their trays and plates together to be taken back to the counter and washed by the kitchen staff. “You can leave them here. I will take them to the counter once I am done with my meal,” Hanneman offers, and Manuela huffs at him under her breath as she climbs over the bench.

Byleth follows her suit, only narrowly missing Michael as he approaches from behind with his own tray. “Sorry,” she mumbles, jumping back in an effort to not bother yet another brother in a single day. Michael wrinkles his nose distastefully as she walks away.

The way to the infirmary is mostly empty with most members of the staff on break. They cross paths with a guard or two, either patrolling or standing by large doors like knights of old on their posts, immovable and silent. Manuela doesn’t try to make small talk as they walk to the infirmary on the first floor of the faculty building, and Byleth is apprehensive that she might have hurt her friend by not telling her what happened earlier. 

Manuela holds the door to the infirmary open and quietly closes it to give them privacy. “Finally.” She sighs and rubs her temples with her fingers. “Hanneman is more insufferable than usual today. I’m glad Isaac gave me an excuse to get out of there. If I had just walked out, he would have said I was running away because I knew I was wrong.” 

Byleth’s shoulders loosen up in relief, glad that she didn’t hurt Manuela’s feelings. “Yeah, that was perfect timing.” She looks around once as Manuela fixes her hair in the mirror. “So can I go?”

“Absolutely not.” Manuela wags a finger in her direction and moves to the supply cabinet. “You said so yourself that you were feeling unwell. Were you wearing a hat? Did you drink enough water?”

“Yes, I was,” she replies promptly, then thinks of the many water bottles that were offered to her by concerned students and smiles to herself. “And yes, I did. All throughout it, actually.”

Manuela directs her to one of the beds and Byleth sits at the very edge of it, offering her arm so Manuela can check her blood pressure. Manuela observes the numbers on the tiny screen and frowns softly. “Your blood pressure is normal.” 

“See? I told you.” Byleth rubs her arm gently and reveals, “Seteth was kind of being a dick, so I said that to get him to back off.” 

“Oh dear,” Manuela muses, lips tugged in a cheeky smile. “What did he do?” 

“It just felt like he was being condescending, is all. Truth be told, I was feeling somewhat overwhelmed when he approached, but I didn’t know what to say to him that wouldn’t make him think that I am an unsuitable teacher, so I said the sun was getting to me.”

Manuela laughs lightly and sits beside Byleth on the bed. “No one is ever suitable or good enough in his eyes, Byleth. He’s got a stick so far up his ass that- well, I shouldn’t be saying that about a fellow professor, should I?” Manuela winks at her slyly. “Why were you feeling overwhelmed, though?” 

“I just-” Byleth can’t tell her about it, can she? That conversation with Seteth ended on such a strange note that Byleth isn’t eager for another rerun of it. “I just really wanted to be there. I’ve always been fascinated with the rumors surrounding the Red Canyon.”

“Oh, you little nerd.” Manuela pinches her cheek lightly and stands to return the sphygmomanometer to the cabinet. “You should have said so earlier, but still, I got the chance to walk away from that irritating man, so thank you.”

“Next time you want an easy way out, let me know and I can fake another illness.” 

Manuela lets out a peal of laughter and shakes her head. “As much as I appreciate it, someone else would be bound to get concerned for your health. And knowing your luck, it would be Seteth.” 

“I’d rather not have him thinking I can’t take care of myself.” Byleth shakes her head in annoyance and sighs. “Hey, Manuela? Do I smell bad?” 

Her friend gives her a curious look, but leans into her space to sniff the air around Byleth anyway. “No, you’re just a little dusty from being in the Canyon. Why do you ask?”

Byleth thinks of the way Michael oftens covers his nose and mouth when she’s around, if not holds his breath, and shakes her head again to clear her thoughts. “Just wondering.” 

Manuela pats her knee gently and turns to the door. “How about you change into clean clothes and we chat a little over tea? I still have some time until my first afternoon class.”

“You read my mind.” Byleth hops off the bed, and together they go to the teachers’ lounge.

* * *

At the end of the day, Byleth once again finds herself in Rhea’s office. It seems only fair to thank the principal for allowing her to take the students on a field trip this early into her employment. Her right-hand man may have his suspicions and doubts, but Rhea, for some reason that only she knows, believes in Byleth’s potential wholeheartedly. 

While Byleth can’t help but feel flattered for all the trust Rhea puts in her, she has to admit that it leaves her confused. She is, after all, a stranger, even if her father and Rhea are acquaintances. 

Rhea has once again prepared tea for the occasion, a fruity kind that smells overly sweet, but surprisingly tastes just fine on Byleth’s tongue. She has even brought a plate of buttered biscuits and small baked treats that smell divine, pushing the plate forward with a delicate motion. Byleth allows herself to be swept along into unnecessary small talk and exchange of pleasantries, and replies in between bites, savoring the biscuits that melt on her tongue. 

As Rhea speaks, Byleth takes the opportunity to observe more of her. The principal is always seen wearing white, be it a dress or pants and a button up, her clothes immaculate and unwrinkled. In contrast, the vice-principal seems to favor dark shades of blue and black. Seteth is the only member of the faculty to not dress in black and white on a daily basis, come to think of it. 

Why it is relevant to acknowledge it, Byleth doesn’t know. 

Rhea lowers the cup and saucer to the table with a gentle _clink_ and tilts her head minimally to the side, her long green hair gliding like silk on her shoulder. “How was the visit to the Red Canyon? That is a place that evokes many strong emotions on some people.” 

Internally, Byleth perks up at her words, keeping her face neutral. “What kind of emotions?” 

Folding her hands in prayer, Rhea holds them close to her chest and dips her head. “I am a devout follower of Saint Seiros’s teachings, and a believer. It is almost like I feel Goddess Sothis’s presence in Zanado whenever I pay it a visit.” Rhea remains quiet for a moment before lifting her head again. “Did you feel anything today, professor?” 

Byleth had been enjoying her time with Rhea, surprisingly, but now she feels like a fish in a tiny aquarium being watched by a hungry cat with the way Rhea is watching her intently. _Too_ intently. She thinks of the light headedness, the difficulty to breathe, and keeps them to herself. “I can’t say I have.”

“I see.” For a second, Rhea looks dispirited, but that expression is gone as soon as it came. “I heard from Seteth that you were feeling unwell.” 

“Yes, the heat was more than I had expected.” Byleth shifts forward on the couch to place the cup and saucer down on the table, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around herself, like the gesture can shield her from Rhea’s gaze. “It’s getting late. My dad should be done with his work now, so I need to go. Thank you for the tea, Miss Rhea.”

“You are most welcome, Byleth.” The way she says her name makes gooseflesh rise on Byleth’s skin under the long sleeves of her button up. “I hope we can do this again some other time.” 

Byleth nods and gives Rhea her most convincing smile before seeing herself out of the office. She waits until she’s out of the waiting room to exhale and loosen up her shoulders, rubbing a hand on the nape of her neck. The day has been a long one, and suddenly she feels like Rhea sapped what was left of her energy in the last few minutes spent in her office. Why did she appear so interested in what Byleth felt in the Red Canyon? Did she expect Byleth to feel the holy energies of that place, or something else?

Rolling her shoulders, she walks down the hallway to her father’s office, intent on dragging him to the parking lot so they can go home. All she wants now is to shower, eat dinner and then pass out until the following morning with Sothis curled up by her pillow. No more thinking of canyons and ancient civilizations and piercing green stares. Just sleep and nothing else.

The door to his office is closed, so she knocks on it and patiently waits for Jeralt to call her inside. “Professor Eisner.” Instead, the one to call her is Seteth, already rising up from his chair within his office right across from her father’s. 

Puzzled, Byleth walks over to his already opened door and stops shortly after she’s made it past the threshold. “Can I help you with something?” 

“Not really.” Seteth comes to a stop a short distance away from her. For the first time, she realizes he is a good deal taller than her. And larger, too. “Jeralt only asked me to tell you that he has already gone to the parking lot and is waiting for you.”

Oh good. She can finally go home. “Thank you.”

As she’s taking a step back to bid him goodbye, Seteth speaks again. “Are you feeling better? Have you found out why Zanado is so... Familiar to you?” 

Byleth cringes internally and can’t help looking over her shoulder to see if anyone, more specifically _Rhea_ , has heard that. Something needs to be done about that. “I am, thanks for asking. Can you not tell that to anyone, though?”

“Oh?” He seems intrigued, or so she thinks. “Would you rather keep it a secret? Between the two of us?” 

She can’t help the involuntary shiver that wracks her body in response to his quiet words. “I’d rather pretend it never happened at all, actually. I clearly wasn’t myself because of the heat and started babbling a lot of nonsense. It was embarrassing. Please.” 

Seteth observes her, and unlike Rhea, his stare doesn’t make her feel like he’s privy to something she isn’t. Many times when Rhea looks at her, Byleth feels like the principal knows something about herself that Byleth has yet to discover, like she can see deep into her very soul and can read her deepest secrets. That notion leaves her feeling naked and exposed, especially when Rhea seems to forget there are other people in the room with them. 

With him, Byleth feels scrutinized like she’s a puzzle he can’t figure out, and it’s annoying. The more he looks at her in that way, with a slight pinch of concentration to his brow as he tries to read her every move and thought, the more unnerved she feels. 

“Very well,” he concedes eventually, folding his hands behind his back. Byleth nods, more to herself than to his benefit, and takes that very much needed step backwards.

“Good evening, Seteth. Until tomorrow.” She whirls around as soon as he replies and walks to the staircase as calmly as she possibly can, his gaze following her until she rounds the corner. 

That brief interaction has erased all traces of discomfort from her talk with Rhea, and has instead replaced it with equal amounts of vexation. It takes Jeralt a single look at her face for him to offer that they should spar before ordering her favorite pizza for dinner tonight. Byleth looks forward to the opportunity of sparring in their yard before eating her feelings away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the game won't let me romance Manuela as Beresu, then I'll push my _they're BFFs_ agenda in here! I wish their supports had more to them than just Manuela worrying about her love life but it be like that sometimes.
> 
> I did mention that this would be me weaving both plots together so of course a trip to Zanado had to happen :^) if anyone has any theories and whatnot, let me know! I might not confirm them yet but I sure likereading them! Setleth interactions are somewhat scattered still, but rest assured they will become more frequent. It might take a bit of time, but it will happen. Trust me :^)
> 
> And lastly, thanks for the support! I had honestly thought that my little cursed crossover crack would get totally ignored bc _Twilight_ , so I'm really happy that that wasn't the case! 💖💖


	3. unprofessional conduct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually adds the slow burn tag bc this will take a while* *but not too long bc I'm impatient myself*
> 
> I know I said earlier that I'd push back the update to next week, but then yesterday I realized I didn't update _last_ week as I had planned, sooo.... 
> 
> Excuse any mistakes, please. I like to edit stuff a few days before posting and I rushed to get this one done today. Enjoy!

Between grading essays, correcting homework and tutoring her students in her time off whenever require her help, Byleth hasn’t had much time to think about what happened in the Red Canyon. The deja vu, as she’s come to refer to it to, only makes its appearance occasionally before bed. 

Thankfully, Seteth hasn’t brought it up again, keeping his word and pretending that no such thing ever happened. Over the days, not much has changed in their relationship as coworkers, or as vice-principal and teacher. He continues to perceive her as incompetent, and though he doesn’t comment on it often, his gazes alone are enough to relay the message that she is not trusted as a professional.

On the other hand, her relationship with the other professors are going well enough, with a few exceptions. She doesn’t even try to talk to Michael anymore, settling for greeting him from a distance in the mornings, and even still he ignores her most of the time. 

Jeritza is an odd one that throws off most of the faculty. Catherine might be the only one who he is ever seen in the company of, usually in the training grounds as they exercise or spar together. He keeps to himself even during lunch, as if there is a wall between him and the people sitting nearby that prevent him from joining in conversations or acknowledging their presence. 

The first time she decides to approach and talk to him, Byleth is relaxing at the pier when she spots him standing by some old barrels. “Hey.” 

“What?” He replies, voice drawled out and detached. “I desired some fresh air.” 

“Okay...” What prompted that kind of answer? She’s just trying to talk, not questioning the life choices he made that brought him here. “So, uh, we haven’t really talked since I came here so I decided to introduce myself.” 

The worst part about him, odd behavior aside, is that she can’t tell if he’s even looking at her with these dumb sunglasses on his face. Byleth sees herself staring back in the large dark lenses, her hand held out for yet another handshake with a new coworker, standing there stupidly as he may or may not be laughing internally at her beneath the stoic face. 

“Sorry, I don’t like buddying up with others. If you don’t have any particular business, leave.” 

Would it kill him to introduce himself? It’s not like she doesn’t know his name already, but damn, she’s just trying to be nice. 

Hanneman had said Isaac was bad at socializing, but clearly he has never tried to speak to Jeritza in the first place to see that he is unbeatable in that category. At least Isaac is polite enough to share a few words with her throughout the day. 

She comes to understand why Catherine speaks so highly of Jeritza, even with his zero socializing skills, one day when she is training by herself.

Byleth makes use of the facilities in the training grounds whenever she can. She has always been active since a young age, a result of having a father that has always worked with security and kept himself in good shape. When she was a kid, her father had gifted her with a toy sword and taught her some silly tricks. When she got older, he bought training swords and they practiced in the park, where he taught her more intricate tricks. 

Come to think of it, he probably picked them up during the time he worked here. She will ask him later.

Now, she picks one of the real blades from the Fencing Club and recalls the tricks and stances as she slashes at dummies. Jeritza eventually offers himself as a training partner, and they dance around each other for the better part of an hour. No words traded, only swipes of the blade.

He is skilled enough with a blade that he was hired as the instructor of the Fencing Club, and the sunglasses remain on his face the whole time. She makes it her personal goal to knock them off in their future sparring sessions.

Her most recurring sparring partner, however, is Felix. Time and again, she’s found him in the training grounds skipping classes as he hacks away at a dummy. She sends him back, confiscates the sword and all, but he always returns at a later date. She’s considered bringing it up to Seteth, which would be the right to do thing per the Academy’s rules, but after one moment too long watching Felix spar by himself, Byleth tosses away that thought.

Felix doesn’t talk about what bothers him, and she doesn’t press. She’s seen how he’s snappish towards his friends, and barely tolerates some of his other classmates. Sparring is the way he lets loose and cools down; if she were to send him back every time, he would become a ticking bomb ready to explode at the first unsuspecting classmate. Thus, Byleth offers to spar with him whenever she happens to be in the training grounds, and his shoulders are less tense by the time they are done. 

She thinks she’s doing what is best for his mental health, within the limits of what he thinks is acceptable (any mention of _talking about your feelings_ near Felix and he’s sure to glare venomously), and resolves to deal with the backslash if Seteth ever finds out. 

Which he does, sooner than she had anticipated. 

Seteth and his siblings are already in the teachers’ lounge when she arrives in the mornings. She would think they actually live in the Academy, if only she hadn’t seen Isaac driving them back home at the end of the day. They usually sit together and chat quietly over tea before classes begin, and that’s one of the few times when Michael isn’t glaring at everyone, too focused as he is on Flayn, their little sister. 

It’s cute. It would be cuter if something about them didn’t feel off. Between the age gap between the oldest brother, Macuil, and the youngest sister, and Seteth’s overprotectiveness of Flayn, something about the Nabateas doesn’t sit well with Byleth. 

Today, Seteth is standing outside his office when she arrives. Byleth has come to read it as a sign that he wishes to speak with her, and so has her dad, if the look he gives her means anything. He slips into his office after bidding her goodbye and greeting Seteth in passing.

According to Jeralt, the vice-principal is much too uptight for him to be around for more than necessary. Byleth silently agrees, if only because Seteth ruins any good mood with his mistrust of her. 

Byleth puts her phone away to give him her undivided attention. “Good morning, Seteth.” 

“Good morning, professor.” He nods his head towards his office, holding his hand out. “Can I have a word with you?” 

She’s tempted to tell him no just to mess with him, but thinks better of it and simply walks past him into his office instead. The door closes as she’s taking a seat on one of the two chairs across from his own, and Seteth settles down in front of her shortly after. The gentle early morning light frames him much like the first time she saw Rhea in the meeting room. It’s a peculiar sight, and yet it suits him somehow. 

He looks... Beautiful like this, she realizes. Holy, even, and she doesn’t know what to do with these thoughts, because this is _Seteth_ and she isn’t supposed to find him beautiful.

“Is something the matter?” She snaps out of it, heat creeping up her neck at the realization that she was caught staring.

“Sorry. The morning coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.” Byleth tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You were saying?” 

“I have noticed that one of the students of the first year has been absent in some of my classes,” he says after clearing the space in the middle of his desk. “Other professors have mentioned the same to me.” 

She meets his stern gaze. “Are you asking me if I have noticed the same thing?” 

Seteth clasps his hands together on top of his desk. “I would advise you to not play dumb when I am concerned in the future, Professor Eisner.”

Byleth sets her jaw in place, teeth gritted together. Any and every feeling of appreciation for him of any kind that surfaced in the last minute instantly shrivels like a fragile sapling under a sweltering summer sun.

“The training grounds are equipped with security cameras, and even if that were not the case, I have seen you sparring with Felix Hugo Fraldarius during lecture hours.” 

From his tone, it’s clear he doesn’t care to know her reasons, nor does he give her the chance to explain herself. She knows nothing she can say will make the situation any better. Even if she brings up that she used to send Felix off in the first few times she saw him there, that hardly matters to Seteth. His only concern is that he wasn’t made aware of this earlier, and, regardless of her intentions, she got in the way of a student’s education. 

It’s like he can read into her silence, because Seteth spares himself from saying out loud all of that. “I do not understand what led Miss Rhea to hire you, but it baffles me that you would dare to be so... Unprofessional this early into your contract, especially when you seem to be aware that you either lack the age or experience to be a professor in this institution.” 

Byleth keeps a straight face even as her insides are burning with anger. Silence is her best friend right now, and she maintains eye contact even when it becomes clear that her lack of reaction is rubbing off on him, if the deepening of his frown is any indication. 

“It cannot happen again, do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” He blinks at her toneless voice, but doesn’t let it hinder him.

“I will have to tell Miss Rhea about this so we can proceed accordingly. As for the student, I will be speaking with him personally later.” Unlacing his fingers, Seteth reaches for the documents to the side of his desk. “You are dismissed. Leave the door open on your way out.” 

Byleth offers him a slight nod, her posture stiff, before exiting his office. Manuela is just passing by as Byleth steps into the hallway, her short brown hair windswept from her quick pace. It’s likely that she overslept again, but her frown is for another reason entirely.

“Byleth! You will never-” She cuts herself short as she stops few steps away from Byleth. “My, looking from up close, this doesn’t seem like a good morning to you too, does it?” 

Aware of the open door and the man just past it, his stare piercing a hole in the back of her head, Byleth turns towards the end of the hallway. “How about some tea, Manuela? Then you can tell me about your date last night.”

The biology teacher huffs and adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “Yes, please, Byleth. There’s much that I have to tell you.” Manuela locks their arms together and leads Byleth down the hall. “And then you can tell me what’s bothering you, too.” 

* * *

During the first period, Byleth is once again sitting on the edge of her desk that morning, an opened history book resting by her hip. The blackboard is full of scribbles from quizzing her students on everything they have learned so far, a messy timeline of events from Saint Seiros’s first appearance up to the founding of the old, long since fallen Adrestian Empire. 

In overall, her students seem to be eager that soon she will be tackling the War of Heroes. It’s one of the pivotal conflicts in the history of Fódlan, and she understands their interest in it. She, along with her classmates, had been excited to learn more about it in depth when she was still a student herself. 

But there is more to tackle before they get to the actual war. “Does anyone remember why Enbarr was chosen as the capital of the Adrestian Empire?” 

Two hands raise on the second row to her right, though both students are anything but alike. Flayn stands at full attention, practically bouncing on her seat, excited to share her knowledge with the rest of the class, while Linhardt sits slouched, cheek propped on a closed fist as his other hand is raised just enough for her to notice. 

Byleth considers them for a second. “Linhardt?” 

Beside him, Flayn deflates a little. “It’s said the first emperor chose that location due to the presence of Saint Seiros.” 

“That’s correct.” She turns her eyes to the girl sitting beside him. “Is there anything you would like to add, Flayn?”

Flayn perks up again. “Oh! Um, it is said the name of the Empire was bestowed by an oracle and that its future was blessed by the Goddess herself.” 

“Very good.” Byleth smiles at the both of them. Linhardt nods slightly, satisfied, and Flayn beams at her brightly. “Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg, or Wilhelm I, was the founding emperor of the Adrestian Empire. Not much is known of his life prior to that, as most physical documents have been lost to history during the following war, but from the fact alone that he unified people under a reign, one can tell that he was a powerful authority figure.

“Wilhelm worked to solidify his reign over the people and stabilize the newly founded empire. As you know, the founding of the Adrestian Empire took place approximately three decades before the War of Heroes. At that time, many different and smaller kings and lords lived in Fódlan and they could pose a threat to-” A timid knock on the door has Byleth standing up from the desk. “Yes?” 

The door opens to reveal one of the staff members whose name Byleth can’t remember. “Excuse the intrusion, Professor Eisner. Vice-principal Seteth is requesting for Felix Hugo Fraldarius’s presence in his office.” 

Byleth exhales slowly and nods. She can already see Ingrid and Annette shooting Felix annoyed and worried looks, respectively. Bernadetta watches from under her hood as he stands from their shared workspace, and Dimitri frowns at Felix’s back as he watches his friend leave the classroom. 

A heavy silence settles over the classroom as the door closes behind his retreating back, then the whispers begin. Without intending to, Byleth glances at Flayn and sees the girl shaking her head to herself, a sullen look on her face. 

“As I was saying,” she continues and retakes her seat on the edge of the desk. The students snap into attention, Felix already forgotten for some of them. A few of his closest peers sneak glances at the door, and she lightly clears her throat to get their attention. Dwelling on it now will do no good to neither of them, herself included. “Smaller kings and lords lived in Fódlan at the time. Skirmishes broke out in the borders of the Empire as Wilhelm I fought to conquer those who opposed him, and strengthened the empire from within at the same time.” 

The rest of the class goes uneventfully with no more interruptions or whispers from students. She covers about half of Wilhelm I’s reign that leads up to the War of Heroes by the time the bell tolls and the students stream out for a small break before the next class. Byleth packs her stuff and heads for the third year’s classroom, taking a moment to look over her notes on the end of the six year long war that she has been covering with them, known as the War of Enlightenment.

It was after that war that the Church of Seiros was reformed completely, and a few decades later, the monarchy was replaced by democracy. Technological progress followed shortly before that,., and she’s got a lot of ground to cover with the students before they get to present day. 

As she wipes the blackboard clean of Shamir’s notes, her mind drifts to Felix and she makes a mental note to seek him during her lunch break. She has no time to prepare any words to tell him later, not with the students returning from their small break and retaking into their seats, nor does she know what would be appropriate to say to him.

Byleth opens another book on the section that describes the end of the war and waits for them to settle down before going over the attendance.

* * *

As expected, Felix is far from happy when she finds him in the training grounds ruining yet another set of dummies. He’s more agitated than before, and she can’t tell if he’s been here since he left Seteth’s office or if this anger has been simmering inside him during the past two classes.

Knowing Seteth, he probably had someone escort Felix back to the classroom, so it’s likely the latter of the two. 

Byleth waits until he’s done and lowers his sword between panting breaths to join him on the sandy ground of that particular area of the training grounds. He stiffens as she makes her presence known and turns away with a click of his tongue as she comes to a stop beside him. 

She still doesn’t know what to say. Condolences don’t sit well with Felix, and she can’t apologize in Seteth’s stead either, even if she wanted to. They both know the vice-principal isn’t sorry for what he’s done; Felix would only mock her if she decided to defend Seteth’s point of view.

And to be quite honest, Byleth never planned on doing that, not when she got chewed out by him earlier.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He snaps, wiping at the sweat on his face with the sleeve of his button up. 

“I was wondering if you would like to spar with me a few days a week,” she offers once his breathing has calmed considerably, and Felix turns to face her again. 

“Did he tell you to do this?” She has to bite back a startled laugh, and settles for giving him a wry twist of her lips. “Of course he didn’t,” he finishes.

Byleth nods once. “I think we both could use some extra training. What do you say?” 

“Where did you even learn how to use a sword anyway?” 

“My dad taught me,” she replies easily, and ignores the confused look Felix gives her. “So? What do you say? Would you rather it be before or after classes?” 

Felix considers her proposal and sighs as he rolls his shoulders. “Before classes would be best. I have clubs in the afternoons.” 

“Monday, Wednesday and Friday sound okay?” He nods and she pats his shoulder once. “Great. Now go shower and get some food, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushes her off before walking away to put away the sword, and then disappears into the changing room. He doesn’t say thank you, but it hangs unsaid in the air even after he’s gone. 

Satisfied, Byleth leaves the training grounds and heads for the dining hall, intending to use the last of her lunch break to fill her stomach and relax before teaching the second year. She foregoes a proper dish in favor of sandwiches, and grabs a bowl of saghert and cream, figuring she’s earned a small treat.

Most teachers are gone by the time she joins the table. Manuela is sipping on a lemonade as she scrolls through her phone, and Flayn is eating lunch with Seteth. None of the other brothers are here. Byleth kind of wishes Seteth were somewhere else as well. 

Manuela puts her phone down and turns to her. “I saw your message. Did you find him?” 

“I did.” Byleth sighs and sits across from the biology teacher, unwrapping her sandwich. “Sorry for being so late, by the way. Some students stopped me before I left the classroom.” 

Now that the students have settled down in Garreg Mach, Byleth was made aware that she is expected to oversee at least one of the extracurricular clubs the Academy offers for the students, and it only made sense to choose the History Club. Today, Edelgard, the student representative of said club, sought her out to discuss a few matters, and the time and date for the club’s first meeting. 

Byleth was shown a list of students that had desire in joining the club, and was quite happy at the amount of people that wrote down their names. Even if it was just around a dozen kids, she was glad to know they were interested in such topic. 

“Don’t worry, stuff like that happens all the time.” Manuela checks her phone again and twists her lips. “I have a meeting with the Theatre Club in a few, so I have to leave unfortunately. Will you be okay?” 

Byleth offers her a nod. “Yeah. Thanks for waiting for me.” 

“Always, professor.” Manuela winks and stands from the bench, picking up her tray. “Spill the tea later, will you?” 

Once Manuela is gone, Byleth bites into her lunch, sighing softly through her nose as she chews. The sandwiches in the Academy are more flavorful and delicious than she had expected them to be. The meat is so tender, and the vegetables so fresh and crisp. Sometimes this doesn’t feel like a school cafeteria at all, but rather an actual restaurant.

When Byleth opens her eyes again after savoring the first bite for an embarrassingly long time, Flayn is sitting across from her, smiling as she watches Byleth eat. She would find this creepier than it actually is if she didn’t sense that Flayn is just genuinely trying to make friends with her.

Seteth continues to sit a distance away, but watches them from the corner of his eyes. None of the other brothers seem as critical of her as he is (even Michael, who can’t stand her) or as protective of Flayn. What _is_ his deal?

“The food here is delicious, is it not, professor?” Flayn asks, eagerly cutting into her fish. 

Byleth hums in agreement around another bite of her sandwich. “Yes. I don’t remember the food in Fhirdiad U to be this tasty.” 

“I am so excited for your next class!” Flayn is, by far, her most earnest student. She expresses her love for being enrolled in the school whenever she gets the chance, and she’s made it clear that history is one of her favorite subjects. “I love studying the history of Enbarr! Did you know I was born there?” 

A choke comes from a short distance away, and Byleth glances to the side to see Seteth wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t know. That’s so cool, Flayn. I was born in Remire.” 

“You were?” She leans forward slightly, curious. “When did you move away?” 

“Shortly after my birth, I believe.” Byleth starts unwrapping her second sandwich. Her bowl of dessert is starting to melt, but that’s fine. “My dad got a new job in Fhirdiad, so we moved.” 

Flayn nods, and the look she has on her face says that she’s committing it to memory. “Is your mother here too?” 

“She passed away,” Byleth explains before taking a bite.

“Oh.” Flayn puts a piece of fish in her mouth and chews slowly, eyes downcast and cheeks puffed. Byleth knows exactly what’s coming out of her mouth next, if only because Flayn shows on her face and the hunched set of shoulders a deep regret for asking. “I am sorry, professor, I did not intend to-”

“It’s fine.” She cuts in quickly with a slight upward curve of her lips to reassure the girl. “It was a long time ago.” 

Flayn offers her a tentative smile and clasps her hands on her lap, food forgotten. “My mother passed away a long time ago too. Sometimes I still miss her.” 

“I do, too.” She thinks of the lullaby Sitri sung as she tucked Byleth into bed, the cakes she baked, the picnics in the Central Park of Fhirdiad, all the afternoons spent wrapped up in a blanket together in the couch when her health took a turn for the worse. “I’m sure your mother’s watching over you, Flayn.” 

The girl smiles timidly, cheeks dusting a pretty pink. “Thank you, professor.” 

Instead of acknowledging that Seteth watched the whole interaction, Byleth returns to her meal and finishes off the rest of her sandwich. She spoons saghert and cream into her mouth as Flayn chats about something more lighthearted, like her love for fish and all seafood, and for fishing itself, until she has finished everything on her plate and Seteth deems it appropriate for them to leave. His parting words are curt, yet still polite enough in spite of what happened earlier that morning. 

Byleth just waves them away and turns back to her dessert, letting it lift her spirits up with its sweetness. 

* * *

Later that week, a small group of students join her in the gazebo at four in the afternoon. Byleth wants them to have fun in this club, so rather than ask them to meet with her in the stuffy library, she brought them out to the courtyard. Granted, it’s not the quietest of places, but it’s relaxing and charming, and she hopes it will make up for the amount of reading they will have to get done. 

Of the ten or so students that actually joined the History Club, a few stand out. Hubert, as expected, hovers near Edelgard whenever they are not separated in different classrooms. Linhardt looks like he’s about to collapse; if he had the choice, she believes, he would not have signed up for any of the clubs. To his dismay, all students _have_ to sign up for at least two extracurricular clubs. 

And then there is Flayn, the first to arrive to the meeting, sitting the closest to Byleth as she sips on the tea the professor brought for the meeting. There’s a small plate of cookies Byleth bought that morning for the occasion, and the students help themselves to the snacks as she lays down a study plan for them to follow. 

Edelgard, who oftens seems so unfazed in class, nods along to what Byleth says, eyes glimmering with interest. It’s good to see her showing interest in something, even if her eyebrows pinch together in a concentrated frown as she peruses the first book on the to-read list. The same can be said about Linhardt, ever so disinterested in most things that surround him. He may have that same detached, tired look on his face, but his lips are gently curved in contentment as he curls up on the iron-wrought chair to read. 

Too soon, their hour is up and the students bid her farewell as they move along to their next club meetings. She can see that Flayn wants to stay and chat longer, but rushes off after a moment’s hesitation towards the training grounds. Swimming is one of the things she likes most, if Byleth recalls correctly. 

As she’s packing her things, she notices that Edelgard is still lingering by the hedges with Hubert just out of sight, waiting for her. “Anything I can help you with?” 

The student approaches, looking over the small stack of books on the tabletop with critical eyes. “Professor, may I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” Byleth gives Edelgard her full attention. A flush rises on her cheeks when Byleth looks at her. 

“Have you ever asked yourself if this is the true history of Fódlan?” 

Byleth frowns softly and looks down at the book on top of the stack. Coincidentally, it’s one that retells the events of the War of Heroes in great detail. “Have you been watching those conspiracy theories videos lately? Are you going to tell me that the world is actually flat next?”

“I have not. And no, never.” Edelgard chuckles, the sound as quiet as it is brief. “But I wonder sometimes. What if all of this is wrong or fake?”

Byleth ponders in silence, cheek cradled in a palm as she considers the possibilities. It’s hard to believe that actual Saints have ever descended to Fódlan at some point in time, especially when there is no physical proof of their existence.

Although, after the visit to the Red Canyon, Byleth wondered if the place could be connected to the Saints somehow, but scrapped the idea. After years of studying, she has never once found a text that mentions they had been to Zanado at any point in time. That civilization continues to remain a mystery. 

Byleth has no words to offer Edelgard. She can’t tell her doubts and suspicions to a student, that’s for sure, but Edelgard seems to accept that Byleth seemingly lacks answers, or simply has resolved to not divulge her thoughts. “I have to go now, professor. Thank you for the lecture.”

Hubert offers her a very sinister smile before both students leave the courtyard. Byleth can never tell if these smiles are on purpose, or if he doesn’t know how to smile naturally and not make it look creepy. Either way, it doesn’t faze her much; she’s seen a lot of stuff during her time in Fhirdiad U. College is nothing compared to a high school.

She heads back to the teachers’ lounge to kill some time before her dad’s shift is over. They’re looking into getting a second car so they can drive separately to school. Public transport doesn’t really make its way up the Oghma Mountains’ winding roads, and between waking up extra early and leaving the academy when the sun is setting because of their different appointments and shifts, the days seem endless. So yes, a second car would be nice.

As luck would have it, of course the lounge isn’t empty when she arrives. Byleth doesn’t speak much on a daily basis to Seteth unless it’s required or out of politeness, but after that Monday morning, she’s been keeping a bigger distance from him than usual.

It has nothing to do with the lingering annoyance she feels, only that she believes he likes it better when she doesn’t talk to him at all. Or to his family.

Seteth occupies one of the work desks as he looks through his endless pile of paperwork. It’s rare to see him working outside his office, and she really doesn’t want to bother him and add another bullet point to his list of _Reasons Why I Dislike Byleth Eisner_ , so she finds a spot far from him.

She makes herself comfortable in the couch and reads some of the essays the students turned in earlier in the week as she sips on some crescent moon tea. Some of the students are very thorough in their explanation, like Ingrid and Lysithea, but others could do so much better. Somehow, Raphael has gone off in a tangent in an essay about old Adrestian customs and started talking about food, whilst Sylvain doesn’t even bother to pretend he was trying at all. He’s just babbling about perfect date spots and pick-up lines.

Byleth sighs softly to herself and makes some annotations on the corner of Sylvain’s paper. She will give him another chance to redo it so he won’t risk failing this class, but will keep this under wraps. She already knows what to expect if a certain someone finds out about this “special treatment.” 

This certain someone in question clears his throat to catch her attention, and Byleth sets her pen aside to look up at Seteth. With her sitting down, he easily towers over her. She has no doubts that it gives him a false sense of security and power, but to his immense displeasure, she doesn’t get intimidated or bothered by it. She’s used to being the shortest of the bunch by now.

“I have talked to Miss Rhea about a proper punishment for your lack of professional conduct,” he says after a moment of deliberation. Why is he bringing it up now, of all times? In a public space no less? 

“Yes. And?” She prompts when he stays quiet for too long.

“Miss Rhea has managed to surprise me once again. She merely laughed at it and said no punishment was needed.” Byleth tries not to feel smug, but the feeling still blossoms in her chest. Stronger than that, though, is the growing feeling of confusion that rears its head whenever Rhea is concerned, a feeling she doesn’t show on her face but can see mirrored in his. “I do not understand.” 

Byleth places the essays back in the folder and puts it away. “What is it that you don’t understand?” 

“What she sees in you,” he clarifies, and Byleth remembers a very similar talk she had with Catherine not so long ago. How come she got the job so easily without as much as applying? How come Rhea seems to favor her?

“I don’t know either,” she replies honestly. Byleth went over many possibilities by herself before she caved in and asked her father if he knew something. He revealed a bit of his past, of her mother’s past, but the look on his face wasn’t pleasant as he spoke. “Maybe she’s just trying to honor her friend’s memory.” 

Seteth’s frown deepens. “What friend?” 

“My mother.” She touches the ring under her button up blouse, her mother’s engagement ring, hanging from her neck in a chain. Her father gifted it to her when she graduated university. “She was a nurse here. My dad said she was good friends with Miss Rhea.” 

“If that is truly the case, then it is still not a good reason,” he says after considering her words. 

“Of course it isn’t. I’m not here by my own merit.” Byleth bites her tongue softly and turns away from his eyes, regretting revealing too much of her feelings on the matter. While she’s grateful for the employment and the friends she’s made, working here would be much more satisfying if she had _earned_ it like everyone else. 

Reaching for her bag, she looks inside one of the inner pockets to retrieve a handkerchief, freshly washed, ironed, and perfectly folded. She should have returned it to him much earlier, but it kept slipping her mind. “Here.” 

When Byleth looks at Seteth again, his face is unreadable. Well, he’s still frowning, but she can’t make sense of the things she sees in his eyes. “You may keep it.” 

“Are you sure?” She holds the borrowed handkerchief out anyway, waiting for him to change his mind.

“Yes. You never know when you will need one. It will be good if you always have one at hand.” He nods as she retracts her hand and tucks the handkerchief into the pocket of her skirt instead. 

“Thank you.” 

“It is no problem.” Seteth takes a step back. “I have to return to my work. Excuse me.” It’s almost like he never left his workspace in the first place, with how he sits down gracefully and seamlessly resumes his work. 

Byleth has to wrench her eyes away after staring at him for way too long, and checks her phone for the time. Her dad’s shift is finally over, and they can go home for the day. She’s too distracted to get anything done, anyway, her mind too preoccupied with trying to figure out the puzzle that is Seteth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly it wasn't the kind of unprofessional conduct you were hoping for, uh?
> 
> This is what I like to call a filler chapter; except it's not like the fillers from Naruto, it just serves as a means to do some more world building and introduce characters etc. Btw, I went back and added the honorific "Miss" to Rhea's name when she's mentioned in dialogue. It felt too weird when people weren't referring to her as Lady Rhea, so Miss Rhea should be more up to date and modern.
> 
> Since the history of the Saints is pretty.. Well, confusing, I'm taking some liberties with the history of Fódlan as a whole. Between so much canon and fanon information, it's easy to get lost, but I'm doing my best to work with what I remember/saw in the game. And as a guide, I'm using [this timeline](https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/F%C3%B3dlan_timeline).
> 
> Things will start picking up after the fifth chapter when we return to the plot of the game, but the next chapter has some more Setleth interactions and Nabatea fam! :^) Thank you for the support so far! I'm slow with replying, but I'll reach you eventually 💞


	4. a little surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Midnight Sun announcement 🎉 I am unironically excited for it; 13 year old me is rejoicing as we speak. 
> 
> Do you know that part in the first movie when Bella is followed around by a bunch of men? It's brief, but we're tackling that part, so please practice self care if it upsets you in any way! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Garland Moon draws to a close, giving way to Blue Sea Moon and the upcoming midterms scheduled to take place at the end of the month. 

Felix is still Felix, but he seems more patient and less snappish as of late. He still hasn’t revealed anything, but Byleth overheard some of his close friends mentioning his brother, Glenn, whose name is usually in the same sentence as the word _accident_.

Sylvain eventually rewrites his essay after trying to flirt his way out of it. Byleth doesn’t know if he genuinely thinks his sweet talk will work on her, or if he just doesn’t know how to stop flirting, but she stays straight faced until some of his confidence crumbles and he accepts to redo it with a defeated sigh. 

Later, Ingrid will come and apologize in his stead. Byleth tries to reassure her that there was no harm done, and that she should stop cleaning up after him so he will face the consequences of his actions himself; he’s old enough for that, and she’s not his mother. Perhaps dealing with the outcome will finally get him to grow up.

As the days pass, Flayn gets more and more excited. Her birthday is coming up, she explains when Byleth asks her one morning before class begins, and she notices Flayn shares the date with Saint Cethleann Day. That same morning, during that brief break between periods, Lysithea and Mercedes approach her as she’s moving to the third year classroom. A surprise birthday party, they say in hushed tones, and they want Byleth to take part in it. 

Byleth doesn’t think twice before accepting. She’s already talked to the dining hall staff to prepare one of the gazebos for the party, and all of Flayn’s friends are aware of their little surprise, chipping in with some money so Byleth can buy snacks and candies. Mercedes even offers to bake the cake. 

Most of the students already know each other for one reason or another, but Flayn is one of the few students who had to try and befriend her classmates with no prior knowledge of them. It’s sweet of them, to be throwing a birthday party after knowing her for such short period of time. 

Currently, Byleth is using her free afternoon to look for Flayn’s siblings and invite them to the party too, conveniently avoiding Seteth’s office and leaving him for last.

In the library, Byleth finds Tomas returning some books to their rightful places. He’s a polite, kind elderly man, but she can’t help the weird itch she gets whenever she has to talk to him. “Excuse me. Have you seen Professor Isaac or Professor Michael anywhere?” 

“Ah, good afternoon, Professor Eisner.” Tomas offers her a polite bow of his head. “Professor Michael is in the mezzanine working on his research.”

With a quiet thanks, she walks up the stairs to the second floor of the library, a space reserved only for the faculty for research purposes or private tutoring. Michael sits by the window, surrounded by open books and scattered papers in an organized mess. Relations with him haven’t improved much; Byleth tends to keep out of the Nabatea brothers’ way as much as she can, and Michael in particular still hates the smell of the laundry detergent she buys, even if it’s the fifth different one.

“Professor Michael?” He slowly lifts his head to look at her, forehead wrinkling at her interruption. “Sorry to disturb. I won’t take much of your time.”

“I would hope so,” he drawls slowly, setting down his pen. His breathing becomes shallower, as if he’s attempting to block her scent without having to cover his nose. One of his siblings must have called him out on it. Probably Flayn. _Definitely_ Flayn. “What is it?” 

“Flayn’s classmates are arranging a surprise party for her.” At the mention of his sister’s name, Michael perks up at once. “We thought it would be best to schedule it for Friday, so it won’t get in the way of you and your family in case you made plans to celebrate with her.”

“That is... Nice.” His lips twitch once in a shadow of smile. “I am sure Flayn will be overjoyed. Where and when do we meet?” 

“The gazebos in the courtyard at four in the afternoon.” 

Michael nods. “Alright. I will be there.” 

“Great.” Byleth takes one step back as he picks the pen up again. “I won’t keep you any longer. Until later.” 

Next, she searches for Isaac. Flayn aside, he is the only other sibling who has some pleasant, friendly conversations with Byleth, however brief and rare they are. She enjoys his company, even if there are no words shared between them and they are each at a desk looking over essays and lesson plans in the teachers’ lounge. With Michael or Seteth, the air in the room quickly becomes tense.

Byleth finds him in the art classroom, sitting on a high stool as he patiently flicks the brush on a wide canvas, woking to complete a landscape painting. Even if he is an impeccable geography teacher, being an art teacher would suit him best, she thinks. Maybe that is why he chose to tutor the Art Club (and from what she’s heard from Claude, he is also the coach of the Swim Club).

She raps her knuckles on the open door to catch his attention, and his shoulders jump at the sound, breath hitching. “Sorry.” Byleth smiles apologetically and walks into the room. “I didn’t make you ruin the painting, did I?” 

“No, you did not. I was too deep in concentration and was startled, is all.” Isaac scrubs his hand with a paint-stained rag to remove splotches of green paint from his skin. “To what do I owe the sudden visit?” 

“I’ve just come to extend an invitation. Flayn’s classmates are planning a surprise birthday party for her this Friday afternoon. It would be cool if you could attend it.” 

“How delightful! We have been trying to surprise her for centuries, but have not been successful.” Isaac laughs quietly and claps his hands together. “She will be so happy, Professor Eisner. Of course I will attend.” 

It’s endearing how much they like Flayn and want to see her happy. “Awesome. I’ll see you at four in the gazebo, then.” 

Byleth waves goodbye and leaves him to paint in peace, preparing herself to speak with Seteth next. She tends to avoid talking with him unless it can’t be helped. It’s not that she doesn’t like him, but rather that it’s hard to improve relations when he seems so intent on not liking her. To her credit, Byleth hasn’t done anything she shouldn’t after her afternoon sparring sessions with Felix were discovered, but Seteth prefers to focus on her shortcomings rather than to acknowledge the things she does correctly. She had somewhat hoped that he would relent after her slip up in the teachers’ lounge, but that hadn’t been the case. 

She understands that he does all of this to make sure the students have the best teachers at their disposal, but he could try to give her some constructive criticism instead of implying that she wouldn’t be fit to teach a kindergarten class. 

In the end, all of his nitpicking and negative criticism backfire, because she works harder out of spite.

Outside his office, Byleth takes a breath and knocks on his door a few times. She could visit her dad to stall for time, but she isn’t going to give Seteth the satisfaction of making her run from him, even if for a few minutes. Even if he will never know. Hubert’s sinister smiles and brooding aura don’t affect her; in comparison, Seteth’s disapproving frowns are harmless.

“Come in.” Byleth wanders into the office, closing the door quietly. Seteth finishes whatever he is writing before glancing up from his work. “Oh, it is you. What brings you here?” 

“It’s about Flayn.” 

“Flayn?” Seteth quickly grows alarmed, turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall just beside a drawing board. “Has something happened? She should be studying with her friends now.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. She’s fine.” Byleth corrects quickly and comes to stand closer to his desk. “It’s about her birthday, that’s all.” 

“Oh.” Seteth clears his throat and smooths his hands down the front of the dark blue button up he wears. “I see. What about it?” 

It’s only years of practice that keep her from smiling at his thinly concealed embarrassment. “Some students are arranging a surprise birthday party this Friday after class. I came here to invite you.” 

“A surprise birthday party?” His face becomes unreadable as he evaluates if whether or not he should allow his little sister attend a _surprise birthday party_ thrown for _her_ within the Academy grounds. A strange behavior, if you ask Byleth, when one considers that neither Isaac or Michael never stopped to ponder on this at all.

His features soften with a rare gentle smile. “Thank you for the invitation. I will clear my schedule so I can attend.” Byleth nods, more to herself than to acknowledge his answer, and turns to leave now that her business here is done. “Wait. What about the food for the party?” 

“Mercedes offered to bake the cake,” she replies, turning back to him. Byleth had the chance to try some of her creations from the Cooking Club and they were divine. “The students and I chipped in with money for the snacks. I’ll buy them after class on Thursday.” 

“Let me come along,” he says, then adds when she lifts a brow. “I know what Flayn likes. I want to make sure the snacks will be to her taste.”

Sheesh, the prospect of going downtown with him is less than appealing, but he has a point. “Alright.” 

* * *

In the short weeks she’s known Seteth, Byleth never thought that, one day, she would have him in the passenger seat of her car. And worse, that her dad would be sitting in the backseat at the same time. 

It’s awkward as hell, and no one is really trying to make some small talk to lighten up the mood. When she’d told Jeralt that morning about her evening plans, he simply stared at her in stunned silence for a full minute before saying “aye” and knocking back his black coffee like it were a vodka shot.

She would have had the same reaction in his place. Jeralt can see that the vice-principal still hasn’t warmed up to the idea of having her around, and the fact that they are going shopping together is simply mind-boggling. 

After about half an hour of silence with Seteth staring ahead of him unseeingly, Byleth stops the car on the street right in front of her house so Jeralt can get out. It’s already dark out, and the light of the streetlamp casts long shadows on his face. He closes the door a little too hard than needed and bends at the waist beside the passenger door, the expression lines on his face hardened. Slowly, Seteth slides his green eyes to meet with brown ones.

“Don’t try anything funny,” Jeralt warns, and Seteth sputters - _sputters!_ \- as her dad leans back and walks to the front door. 

She has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing when words continue to fail him. “Relax. He was just teasing you.” 

By the time they make it to the grocery store, Seteth has recomposed himself once more and vehemently acts like nothing happened. She refrains from teasing him for two reasons: they aren’t close, and he’s still pretending the Red Canyon Fiasco, as she likes to call it, never happened. So she’ll repay in kind and pretend this never happened, too.

Inside the store, she leans on the shopping cart and opens the browser app on her phone as Seteth stands rigidly by her side,managing to look out of place in a harmless public space. “I had a few ideas for the party. We could make some sandwiches. They’re easy and simple to make, and nutritious, right? I found this tuna salad recipe. Do you think she’ll like it?” 

Seteth takes the proffered cell phone and squints his eyes at the screen as he peruses the recipe. “Omit the onions and celery. Flayn does not like those.” 

“Okay.” She crosses them out on her digital shopping list when the phone is in her hands again. “Let’s find the ingredients, then.” 

Shopping with him is weird, and uncomfortable, and every other negative adjective she can think about. There’s that constant barrier between them that prevents her from relaxing, and even now he doesn’t lower his walls around her, like she’s some threat to the Academy or the students personally, or to himself.

To distract herself, Byleth spends an absurdly long time picking out the best tomatoes and lettuce for the sandwiches, or choosing the best whole grain bread that will suit his tastes, nevermind that some students might not like it.

He comes back with a piece of fresh tuna neatly wrapped up and sets it in the cart gently. Of course Seteth catches her staring and takes it the wrong way. “I will not have Flayn eating canned tuna on her birthday.” 

She says nothing, merely shakes her head and doesn’t elaborate. She had made plans to use canned tuna, yes, but mostly because fresh tuna is more expensive, and she doesn’t have much money at disposal, even if she chipped in a larger sum compared to the students. 

Byleth wheels the cart to the snacks aisle and looks over the many flavored chips and snacks at their disposal. Hmm, what would Flayn like? Barbecue ribs? Or maybe cheese? Byleth’s sure she saw some shrimp flavored chips a while ago; Flayn would definitely enjoy them.

She hears as Seteth takes a breath, likely to protest, and interrupts before he can say anything. “They’re kids. And it’s her birthday. She’s allowed to indulge herself once in a while.” 

“These are unhealthy and improper for consumption.” He protests, sounding like those fitness gurus that smile as they eat salad and swear it tastes better than a cheesy pizza.

“She won’t die because she had a few chips, Seteth, unless she’s allergic, which she’s not.” Byleth grabs a handful of chips of different flavors from the shelves and drops them into the shopping cart. “Besides, you already insisted on whole grain bread for the sandwiches. Now it’s my turn to have my way.”

Seteth stares at the snacks with clear disgust. This will surely make him dislike her even more, but she just wants Flayn and the students to have some fun. Nothing wrong with having a few chips once in a while, especially when it’s an important date. 

As they take place in line to purchase the ingredients, Seteth takes his wallet out of his pocket. “Allow me to pay for these.” 

Byleth stares at him at a loss of words. “Thanks, but... This is a gift from the students and I to her.”

“It is Flayn’s birthday party and I am her family. I should pay for it.” He pushes the cart forward a few steps when someone is called to the checkout counter, like that act alone ends the conversation, and she grasps at what to do with the money. 

“Then- then I will get her an actual gift!” Nodding to herself, she looks around her bag for the car keys and drops them in his hand. “I’ll meet you by the car again in thirty.” 

She quickly leaves before he can protest, or maybe he does and she just doesn’t listen. Outside, she power walks to one of the few book stores in Remire, running over possible books Flayn might enjoy. She once expressed interest in cooking, and of course she likes fishing and history. Maybe she will enjoy a fiction novel? Byleth overheard her speaking with Dorothea once about a new movie adapted from a novel, and how she hadn’t read the book still but wanted to before she got to watch the movie. 

A bell jingles when she enters the small store. The lady behind the counter stands up upon her entrance and approaches her with a friendly smile. “Good evening. Can I help you?” 

“Hey. There’s this movie coming out soon- about vampires, I think? Do you have the book it’s adapted from?” 

“Oh, the Dusk Saga? I have all four books. Would you like to take the complete saga or just one of them?” 

“The first one, please.” It’s easier to get Flayn more books if she ends up liking them, than giving her the four volumes at once only to find that she doesn’t like the story. Not to mention, four books would cost more money than she has on her right now.

She adds a few more items to the purchase, like a cute notepad and a couple of fun bookmarks. The lady wraps the book up in a pretty wrapping paper of Byleth’s choice. She picks one with different colorful cartoon fishes; it’s a bit childish, but she thinks Flayn will like the pattern enough to keep the paper later.

After paying, Byleth takes the paperbag and ventures out into the streets. In her rush to get to the bookstore, she hadn’t realized it’s farther from the grocery store than she had anticipated. She’s going to be late meeting up with Seteth again, and it will be yet another thing that he can add in his ever growing _Reasons Why I Dislike Byleth Eisner_ list.

Not only is it far, but the streets are also poorly lit and quiet. Quiet enough that she picks up the sound of a can being kicked out of the way, soon followed by rushed steps following her. She groans internally as one man calls out to her with a whistle, his friends laughing like they find it amusing. Figures she’d be caught in some cliché novel scenario of being alone in the streets of a small town with a bunch of strange man with bad intentions pursuing her. 

Byleth tries to gauge how many men are behind her based on the voices and footsteps. Four, maybe six at most, definitely not drunk so they are completely able to fight her back if she throws the first punch. She has a black belt in karate, knows self defense from her father, and won several local boxing competitions back in Fhirdiad. She didn’t earn the moniker of Ashen Demon for nothing. Byleth can take all of them head on if she desires.

But she can’t afford to get in a fight now; she has to make it to the car quickly before Seteth gets _too mad_. 

Outrunning them sounds unlikely, but it’s the best option she has if she wants to make it in time. That is until a man emerges from a dark parking lot and startles her so badly that she drops the book and instinctively pulls back her arm to throw a punch. Bone crunches under her knuckles and blood splatters on her curled fingers, but Byleth doesn’t stop to think her actions through as a roar fills her ears and she hits the man once more with her elbow, forcing him back far enough that she can deliver a swift kick to his head. 

He crumples to the ground, clearly unconscious, and the other men - likely his friends leading her to an ambush - hesitate for a second as she turns around to face them. Byleth cracks her knuckles and neck for the drama of it, and takes a step in their direction. She’s going to be late now anyway, so she might as well teach them a lesson about following women at night.

The roar in her ears gets louder as headlights provide this empty street with extra light. The men stumble back as the car wildly racing the streets, pushing the motor to its limits, slides into the empty space between her and them, narrowly missing both parties as it halts suddenly with screeching tires. 

Surprised, it takes her an awfully long time to recognize the car as her own, and even longer to recognize the man emerging from the driver’s seat. Seteth looks _furious_ and she sighs quietly to herself after risking a glance at her watch. She’s five minutes late.

At the sight of him, or at the threat of being run over, the men scatter back the way they came, leaving behind their one unconscious accomplice. Seteth rounds the car as Byleth crouches down to pick up the dropped gift, hoping it wasn’t ruined from the fall. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she says as she turns to face him. “I had a little setback.” 

Seteth rips his wide eyes away from the bloody figure on the ground and fixes them on her. “ _You are sorry?_ Professor, you were nearly assaulted! Are you all right? Do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“I’m fine. He might need a doctor, though.” She nudges the man’s leg with the tip of her shoe, feeling satisfied and proud that she pulled off a perfect kick in heels. 

“How are you so calm and nonchalant about this?” He’s worrying for her well being enough for the both of them, brow furrowed from how high and scrunched up his eyebrows are. 

“This is nothing new.” Fighting is a familiar territory that she can navigate blindfolded after all years practicing different martial arts. Teaching teenagers, though? Terrifying. “How did you know they were following me? And who taught you how to drive?”

His cheeks flush slightly. “I- do not know how to drive.” 

“Yeah, I could see that.” She circles the car quickly, looking for any damage. “That was insanely reckless. At least the car isn’t scratched.” 

“I believe that fighting six grown men by your lonesome is far more _insanely reckless_ than my driving to the rescue.” Seteth tugs at the hem of his button up to straighten it, exasperated. 

“That’s fair.” Byleth stops by the driver’s door and lifts up the crumpled paper bag at eye level. “I got her a book. Hopefully she’ll like it.”

“What is the book about?” He asks, only to be completely ignored as she enters the car. Seteth quickly follows her inside. “Professor?” 

Byleth doesn’t bother to tell him what the book is about, just like he didn’t bother to tell her how exactly he knew she was in trouble. Does he have an inhuman hearing range? Will he confiscate the book before it can be given to Flayn if he finds out it’s a romance novel? The world may never know. 

She backs out of the empty, dark parking lot and starts down the street. Originally, Byleth had planned to invite him for dinner in an attempt to make amends, but now he’s all tense all over again, and she’s annoyed that a simple shopping trip was disrupted by a bunch of hooligans. 

She drives him home instead.

* * *

The following afternoon, Byleth is plating the sandwiches she prepared after lunch as Manuela helps her decorate the gazebo. The biology teacher places some tape on a tangled mass of balloons she put together in the shape of a flower and sticks it to the pillars. Flayn’s friends took turns to fill so many balloons for the party. 

Done with the sandwiches, Byleth rips open the bag of chips and pours them into plastic bowls she got from the kitchen. The trash goes inside a plastic bag that she knots closed and kicks under the table, the long tablecloth hiding it from sight. 

All that is left now are the pitches of iced tea and the cake, which Mercedes and Lysithea will bring over before Flayn is set to arrive. 

Manuela glues another balloon flower to the pillar and hops down the chair as she pats her palms together. “Another good work done.” She holds her hand up for a high five and Byleth indulges her with a smile. “So, professor. How did it go? Shopping with Seteth, I mean.” 

It’s not the first time today that Manuela asks about it. In fact, Byleth got a text from her last night inquiring about all the juicy _deets_ , what they did and what he was like, and Byleth got out of having to talk about it after claiming she was tired. Until now she had a few excuses, papers to grade and a party to prepare, but now that her hands are empty, literally and figuratively, there is nowhere else to run. 

Byleth hadn’t wanted to even think about last night if she were honest. She only shared details with her dad for obvious reasons, and though concerned, he was proud that she defended herself so easily and quickly felled one of the creeps. She told him of Seteth driving to the rescue, but casually kept out the part that he has no driving license. 

She’s still mad at herself for walking too far and being late for their rendezvous. He was already annoyed that she’d bought the chips in the first place, then she _just_ had to be held back by a bunch of stupid men. Byleth doesn’t like when people aren’t punctual, so she understands his anger.

The night just wasn’t a bigger of a disaster because they actually managed to get some shopping done, with an impromptu gift included. Byleth decides to omit all of that and focuses on the least embarrassing part.

“Apparently, trying to fight six grown men by myself is insanely reckless,” she says with a sigh, and Manuela chokes on the chip she snuck from the bowl.

“Fight six men- Byleth!” Coughing, she reaches for the water bottle Byleth offers and gulps it down. “What happened?” 

Byleth shrugs as a third voice joins the conversation. “Professor Eisner was being followed last night,” Seteth explains as he enters the courtyard with his brothers in tow. “One of the... Assailants was knocked out cold by the time I reached her.” 

Having recovered from her coughing fit, Manuela cradles her throat gently with a hand and points a finger at him with the other. “Why did you let her wander about alone in the first place?”

“She wanted to buy a gift for Flayn.” He glances at the wrapped gift sitting innocently on a chair with suspicion evident in his eyes. 

Manuela nods sagely and pats Byleth’s shoulder. “Ah, I get it now. You wouldn’t have gotten anything worthy or interesting enough with him around. Well played, Byleth.” 

Seteth fixes her with a glare, but Manuela remains unfazed, snatching another chip from the bowl and popping it into her mouth. The exchange draws a noise from Michael, which may or may not be a poorly concealed chuckle, and Isaac smiles slightly. “That wrapping paper is beautiful,” he comments, motioning to the gift. “She will love it.” 

“I hope so.” Byleth smiles to herself. She had to do some mending with a bit of tape at home, but otherwise the present is mostly undamaged. 

Mercedes and Lysithea join them in the courtyard, the former gracing them with a gentle smile as she shows the two tiered cake she’d baked, filled with vanilla cream, decorated with fresh berries and dusted with powdered sugar. Byleth helps her place the cake on the table and stick half a dozen pink candles on top in a circle around a large strawberry. 

Flayn had been strangely shifty and nervous when Byleth asked her age so Manuela could secretly buy the correct number of candles. She tried asking Seteth when she dropped him off, but he got overly defensive too soon and left without giving her any concrete answers. So six candles it is, for the sake of it.

Soon, the rest of Flayn’s friends join them in the courtyard. Dorothea, being the good actress that she is, had been tasked with distracting Flayn for a decent amount of time until everyone could arrive in time. As more students arrive, Byleth spots Isaac isolating himself in one of the corners of the neatly trimmed hedges. Across from him, Bernadetta does the same, still hiding in her hoodie. Byleth wonders who managed to drag her out here.

When Flayn shows up, the loud chorus of _surprise!_ catches her so out of guard that she yelps and jumps back. Her shock is quickly forgotten as she clasps her hands together and looks around in wonder with the largest smile on her face as Dorothea saunters away to join the group. Annette approaches the birthday girl to put a colorful party hat on her head, and Claude and Sylvain pop two party poppers above Flayn, raining silver confetti down on the girl. 

Instinctively, the faculty members present come to stand by Isaac’s corner as the students congratulate Flayn one by one with hugs or pats to her back. To her left, Byleth sees Seteth gripping his arms so hard his fingers could leave marks even through his clothes. He ought to chill a bit. What is he going to do when his little sister starts dating someone? Chase the poor person out with a pitchfork? Lock her inside her bedroom? She rolls her eyes at the thought. 

Seteth shifts his stance and drops his arms as Flayn makes her way towards them, but the first person she greets isn’t him or any of their brothers, but rather Byleth herself. 

“Thank you, professor!” She wraps her arms tightly around Byleth’s middle and presses her cheek to her ribs. “I adore this surprise!” 

Byleth softly smiles at the girl and returns the hug as best as she can whilst holding the gift. “It was a joint effort. You brother Seteth actually paid for the expenses.” She shows Flayn the gift when they pull apart, watching as the girl’s eyes widen in wonder. “This is a gift from me and the students.” 

Flayn graciously accepts the gift and carefully picks at the tape to open the wrapping paper without ruining it much. She marvels at the notepad shaped like a mermaid’s tail, the pages a soft pink that contrasts prettily with the blue of the textured cover. The bookmarks Byleth got her can be hooked on the edges or the corner of the pages; when closed, the head of an animal like a cat or a fox peek out. 

At last, Flayn pulls out the novel, a pair of pale hands cradling half an avocado in stark contrast with the black backdrop of the cover. She makes a sound of wonder and looks up at Byleth. “I love this, professor! Thank you! The girls are always talking about this book!” 

From her peripheral vision, she sees Manuela elbowing Seteth in the ribs before he can try to protest. “You’re welcome, Flayn. I hope you enjoy it.” She dances away to greet her brother Isaac first, and Byleth moves away to stand by Manuela. 

Claude brought a small boombox with him to provide a bit of a soundtrack for the party. Despite the presence of teachers, the students enjoy their time together as they chat and snack on the food provided. Flayn seems to like one of the chips in particular, often returning to the table to get more of them, and she can feel Seteth’s displeasure coming off of him in waves. 

If the songs or the environment annoy them in any way, the Nabatea brothers do a good job of staying put for Flayn’s sake. She’s incredibly happy, and Byleth’s chest grows warm whenever she sees the girl laughing. 

“Such a sweet girl,” Manuela comments under her breath, lips hidden behind a plastic cup. “It’s sad to see how they keep a tight leash on her. Seteth in particular.” Byleth nods her agreement, biting into her sandwich to keep from saying anything with them so close by. 

The brothers stand with Flayn behind the table as Manuela lights the candles when the time comes to sing happy birthday. Byleth stands across from them to take pictures as the students clap and sing in unison, and Flayn hardly knows what to do with herself, cheeks rosy from all the attention placed on her. Byleth captures the moment when she leans forward to blow the candles out, snaps a shot of the _whole_ family _smiling_ genuinely at the camera, and registers when Flayn cuts the first slice.

As expected, Mercedes’s cake is nothing short of divine. Byleth has a little too much of it, humming to herself every few bites at the freshness of the berries and the delicate sweetness of the vanilla filling. She compliments Mercedes, who flushes pleasantly at the praise as she serves her another slice. 

The party is a success and well worth the stress of nearly fighting some random men at night just to see Flayn smile. Byleth is still warm inside as she lies down in bed that night and looks over the pictures she took, picking the best ones to send to Seteth. She would rather send them to Flayn herself but Byleth doesn’t have her number, nor does any of the women in the group chat. Isaac would be the second next option, but he never gave his number to anyone.

Catherine just so happens to have Seteth’s number, so that will have to do. 

Byleth zooms in one picture to make sure everyone in the family has their eyes open and weren’t caught mid-blink. She spends an awfully long time looking over each of their features, frowning softly to herself. They really are nothing alike, except maybe for Seteth and Flayn. She can see some resemblance there, but Isaac and Michael share no similarities with them. What a strange group of siblings they are. Perhaps they’re only half-siblings?

When his eyes soften like this and he smiles earnestly, Seteth is more handsome than he already is, she thinks as she observes another picture.

She blinks to herself and groans, blaming her tiredness for the errant thought. Byleth sends off the pictures with a quick message and turns off her phone for the night, not waiting for a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth, staring at Seteth as Flayn hugs her first: my daughter now
> 
> I was meaning to update this last Friday but........ I have no excuse. I got some good news these past couple of days, so it gave me a burst of inspiration to edit this chapter; still, there might be some mistakes. 
> 
> I'll take a small break from updating this fic to work on getting out of my funk; I just haven't written anything at all these past ten days and something has to be done about this before it gets worse akhfkja I might update some others stories, and I plan to rewrite some _old, old_ fanfics from like.... 2010 as practice, so we'll be seeing each other around! And yes, I'll reply to each one of you..... Eventually akjfaskjfha I'm sorry, I've always been so bad at replying, but know that I cherish each one of you 💚
> 
> Stay safe, wash your hands, wear your mask, use sanitizer, and be careful! 💪
> 
> BY THE WAY... I was going with the classic green apple on the cover for the parallel Twilight book, but my friend Nikki said avocado and........ And now it's an avocado. That's it. Bye!


	5. rite of rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! It's been a while :^)

Though no longer a monastery, Garreg Mach Academy continues to be a religious institution of sorts. It’s not at all uncommon to see priests and nuns walking about, kept around both for Church services and other matters concerning the Academy, like counseling or administration.

To be completely honest, Byleth doesn’t know nor does she understand how they got one of the oldest buildings in the history of Fódlan and the one most important to the Church of Seiros to be turned into a high school for rich kids. It doesn’t make sense. If anything, this should have been turned into a museum, but as a professor with access to the majority of these historic grounds, she’s not going to complain, ever. 

Every last Friday of the Blue Sea Moon occurs one religious holiday called The Goddess’s Rebirth. Long ago, it was known as the Goddesses’s Rite of Rebirth, and the ceremony was performed within the reinforced walls of Garreg Mach, more specifically the Goddess Tower, led by the designated archbishop of the time. Believers from all over the land would congregate here on the only day Garreg Mach opened its gates to the general public to pray for the Goddess, ask for another year full of blessings, and wish for her return.

In the classes she took in university to better understand her mother’s religion, and to honor Sitri’s memory, Byleth learned that the rite lasted throughout the day. Hymns, chants and prayers were performed by the masses that overcrowded the cathedral and the courtyards, while the Archbishop conducted a ceremony inside the tower with a select group of members of the church, all with the intent of guiding the Goddess back to their world so she could rule over this land as she once had. 

Garreg Mach, as a religious high school, follows the holidays and other celebratory dates that the Church of Seiros declared as holy days a long time ago. Students are dismissed from their classes on these days, and they can choose to partake in such celebrations if they wish. 

Today being one of such days, Byleth sees some of them piling into cars owned by the richer students before they drive down the single road that connects the Oghma Mountains to Remire, headed for a day full of fun or trouble, or both. Some students remain, either by choice or by having no means to leave, distracting themselves with hobbies or small get togethers in the courtyard. Others head to the cathedral to take part in the service that is to happen.

Byleth is not needed here today, but with the influx of believers coming to the Academy to pray in the oldest church in existence, her father had to report to work and she decided to tag along. Her curiosity when it comes to the history of the Church pales in comparison to Hanneman’s interest in the long faded Crests, but she still thirsts for knowledge, finding it intriguing and fascinating. 

She has visited the cathedral many times since classes began, mostly to observe the ancient architecture that shows no sign of age, or to stare at the visage of the Goddess on the dais, or the Saints in their designed chapel. She often runs into the Nabatea siblings or even Rhea in there, but doesn’t talk to them unless approached first. She doesn’t want to interrupt their prayers, or get on their nerves more than she already has. 

The Goddess’s (Rite of) Rebirth allows her to observe the cathedral and the Tower of the Goddess in one of the most important days for the Church. There is a shift in the air as prayers are uttered, flowers are piled at the steps of the Tower as offerings to the Goddess, and believers cover their faces with red hoods that symbolize the blood She’d spilled to restore the land. 

She watches from the outside as Rhea herself leads the service at the front of the cathedral, dressed in a pristine, long white dress with lilies tangled in her hair. Byleth remembers the few times when the principal mentioned her devotion to the Goddess Sothis, and she can see Rhea wasn’t lying. Rhea has clearly led services before; many of them, judging by her skill. The words and gestures seem to come to her naturally. 

Byleth walks around the outside of the cathedral and sits on the edge of a water well to gaze at the Goddess Tower. Much like now, the Tower was closed to outsiders on most days back then, its access restricted to anyone who was not part of a select few members of the Church. It was during the rites that people were allowed inside, though it is said students sneaked in frequently during the Ethereal Moon because of a legend.

The Goddess Tower wasn’t the only part that was opened to the public, then. The Holy Mausoleum was one of these places, and many times Byleth has skirted around the doors, always so heavily guarded, curious as to what lies inside. It was once believed that Saint Seiros’s bones were entombed in that very place, and whether that is true or not, just being able to glimpse inside would be indescribably exciting. 

A few times, Byleth has considered asking the guards to let her in if only for a second, but they wouldn’t let her even if she is their boss’s daughter. They can’t play favorites.

Footsteps catch her attention and Byleth twists around to see Rhea walking in her direction, all four Nabatea siblings following from just a step behind. It strikes her then, out of the blue, that Byleth doesn’t know Rhea’s last name. 

“Good morning, professor.” Rhea greets in that soft voice of hers, her eyes intense, and Byleth stands to talk to her, dusting the backs of her thighs. 

“Good morning, Miss Rhea. Professors, Flayn.” The girl leans sideways to see her from around one of her brothers and waves a hand. Byleth returns the greeting with a slight wiggle of her fingers. 

“I could not help but take notice of you watching the service,” Rhea comments, drawing Byleth’s attention back to her. “Were you not interested in joining us?” 

“I’m not very religious myself, despite my mom’s beliefs and devotion.” The principal’s smile slips for only a second before she fixes it in place again. Byleth doesn’t understand why Rhea always seems so crestfallen when she expresses no desire to actually learn and follow the teachings of Seiros. “But I wanted to see how the Rite of Rebirth is conducted in here nowadays in comparison to what I’ve read in books.”

Rhea’s eyes grow distant as she smiles sadly. “The Rite of Rebirth was a grand ritual centuries ago. It pains me that it has lost most of its importance and grandeur.” 

She folds her hands neatly together and brings them close to her face, as if sending a quick prayer asking for forgiveness. Rhea appears deeply hurt by it for a handful of seconds, brows creased severely, before her face smooths back to its usual peacefulness and serenity.

“We were about to visit the Holy Mausoleum,” she begins, extending a hand towards the interior of the cathedral. “Would you like to accompany us? I imagine a historian such as yourself would cherish the rare opportunity.”

“It’s like you read my mind,” Byleth jokes. “Thank you. I promise to keep quiet and stay out of your way.” She says that more to Michael and Seteth than to Rhea herself, who seems only too happy to have Byleth walk alongside her towards the doors. The crowd in the cathedral has dispersed, with people either going home or drifting towards the Tower for another round of prayers.

Flayn comes to stand by her other side, beaming up at Byleth, and sticks close by until they walk past the guarded entrance. Her brothers walk down the steps ahead of them with Rhea leading the group, and Flayn quickly catches up with them as Byleth’s own steps slow to a stop. 

The Holy Mausoleum is huge, as is to be expected of a place that houses a Saint’s bones. It’s much colder here compared to other facilities of Garreg Mach, the drop in temperature caused by the thick stone walls and the room’s underground position, and flickering torches illuminate the wide space. Several lit candles are scattered about out of the main pathways for added lightning. Between each pair of pillars lies an unidentified casket, and Byleth walks from one to the next to analyse them, grateful that she forewent her usual heeled shoes for a pair of sneakers.

In the vastness of the mausoleum, her footsteps echo slightly, and so do the voices of the five green haired individuals making their way to the end of the room, though their words are unintelligible. Byleth is too distracted to even try make sense of the murmurs; if they are whispering, then it means they don’t want her to hear it in the first place.

She doesn’t touch the caskets, but she allows her fingers to graze the pillars and walls, and to trace the broken fissures on the ground. Very few people have ever been allowed here, and those who have could never take any pictures. To think that she is part of that small group is unreal. 

“Professor,” Rhea calls, and Byleth notices that she’s been crouched down in one of the corners of the room for a while, distractedly tracing the pale tiles used in that part of the mausoleum. She cringes internally as she stands and her knees protest, aching with a slight twinge of pain. “Would you like to take a closer look at Saint Seiros’s tomb?”

Perking up, Byleth goes to the end of the room and stops in front of a series of steps. Rhea is at the opposite end on the raised floor, the casket of Saint Seiros resting behind her on a higher level still. Byleth joins her at the top, her curious eyes taking in the motif of the long lost Crest of Seiros delicately carved on the lid made of polished wood. Fine sculptures of dragons decorate each end of the casket, and the image of a praying woman lies at the center, the handiwork so nicely done that the marble figure looks like it’s donning actual silk. 

Her hands itch to trace the carving on the outside of the casket, to run her finger on the tail of the dragon sculpture that rests on the corner of the lid closest to her. Instead, she curls her fingers towards her palm and asks, “Are her bones really here?” 

“Not anymore,” Rhea murmurs. “Long ago, in the Imperial Year of 1880, ruffians attempted to steal her remains during the Rite of Rebirth. Saint Seiros’s bones have long since been relocated.” She turns to look at Byleth. “There is something else here, however, if you would like to see it.” 

Byleth steps back as Rhea steps forward, her hands moving the heavy-looking lid of the casket out of the way with ease. It slides backwards smoothly just enough to allow some space for Rhea to stick her arms into the casket and slowly pull something out. 

“Rhea-!” Surprisingly, the exclamation comes from Isaac. Before he can as much as take a step forward, he halts in place as Rhea pins him with a cool stare from the top of the stairs.

Byleth wants to stop her, to agree with Isaac; whatever is inside, not to mention the casket itself, must be too old to be handled or manipulated in any way without proper care - but she’s too damn curious.

Rhea turns to her, eyes unreadable and smile cryptid, as she presents Byleth with the contents. Below, the brothers tense and hold their breaths as the atmosphere in the Holy Mausoleum grows strained. Flayn is the only one who acts differently. She flinches away and steps behind Seteth, as if to shield herself from the sight.

Their strange reactions are quickly forgotten once Byleth sets her sights on the Hero's’ Relic held in Rhea’s hands. She’s seen many drawings and a few near perfect replicas of the Sword of the Creator over the years. In few of the documentaries she watched, important historians visited the Academy and were allowed the rare opportunity of seeing the real Relic and, even rarer still, the chance to touch it, however briefly.

Not much is known about the Heroes’ Relics and the Ten Elites, even to this day. Much was lost in the centuries between then and now, such as the methods of creation and the materials used in the process. Though weapons and not holy relics, they remain in the possession of the Church, and thus are not allowed to be studied scientifically. It is said the base material cannot be found in Fódlan anymore. 

“Would you like to hold it?” Rhea offers, extending the weapon towards Byleth a little further.

She takes a small step forward and raises her hands, but quickly stops. “Shouldn’t I wear gloves for this?” Uncertain, Byleth lowers her arms. “I don’t want to damage an important relic to our history.” 

“You will not,” Rhea reassures gently and nods at the sword. “Take it.” 

Holding her breath, Byleth carefully accepts the weapon, feeling its heavy weight on her palms after Rhea settles it fully on her hands. She exhales, the breath stolen from her lungs as an orange glow envelops the sword, energy emanating from it like flickering flames. 

Enraptured by the weapon, Byleth traces her finger along the strange blade, feeling the gaps and bumps between each piece that composes it. They look like vertebrae, as strange as that sounds. The material is of an ivory color and presents fissures in some places, but not to the point of cracking or crumbling apart. Closing her hands around the hilt, Byleth holds it in front of herself, bringing it closer to her face to inspect the peculiar hole at the base. 

Now insatiably curious, she’s almost reluctant to return it to Rhea, but does so regardless of her wishes. This sword is an ancient and irreplaceable relic, not a toy to be played with. The glow dims and ceases by the time Rhea puts it back in the casket and closes its lid. 

As she’s processing all of it, blood thrumming with elation, Byleth doesn’t take notice of the deafening silence that follows. 

* * *

At this hour, the librarian Tomas leaves his post for his daily afternoon tea in the courtyard. That’s when Byleth comes to the library for some reading or researching. Though he looks kind and harmless enough, something about him gives her the creeps, and she would rather avoid the involuntary shudders that race down her body in his presence. 

She’s hidden away in a convenient corner of the mezzanine, tucked away between the corner of the room and one shelf of books by one of the windows overlooking the courtyard. Here, she can curl into herself however she likes, in a position that is sure to grow uncomfortable soon and leave her aching for a couple of days. 

Byleth reads through one of the newer editions of Loog and the Maiden of Wind, a book that was eagerly recommended to her by two students of the first year. Ashe and Ingrid adore tales of knights of old, and this fictional series based on the first king of the once Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is one of their favorites. She decided to give it a go, and finds that it is well written and developed for a book targeted to pre-teens. 

The foot she swings back and forth stops as footsteps head up the mezzanine. From where she is, she can’t see who the newcomers are, but she doesn’t really care. She intends to turn back to her reading and ignore them completely when familiar voices start speaking.

“What was it doing there?” Michael asks, clearly aggravated. “What was she thinking-” 

“It was clearly put there on purpose,” Seteth interrupts, his tone laced with confusion. “If it activated, then it must mean-” 

“How is it even possible?” Isaac questions, in a quieter, hesitant tone. “I thought the bloodline had been-” 

Michael cuts him off, his voice harsher than before. “That was careless. We spoke of this before. If she dares try something like this again, I _will_ leave-”

“I know. Let me speak with her. She has to have an explanation,” Seteth says. Byleth can picture the arms folded across his chest and the pensive frown on his face.

“Mac,” it’s Isaac again, more serious than Byleth has ever heard him before. “You mentioned Professor Eisner smells like Sothis, did you not?”

Byleth perks up against her better judgement. As Michael replies, she can picture his sneer, too. “Yes, the stink of Sothis is all over her. She reeks of it.” 

She has no intentions of eavesdropping, really, even if her name was mentioned. Revealing herself would only lead to an awkward conversation that she would rather avoid, so she settles for keeping quiet. That’s when her body decides to rebel against the inconvenient position it was forced to accommodate to, as an acute and sharp pain shoots up her back. Byleth hisses, and they hear it, of course. 

Drooping her shoulders in defeat, she forces her limbs to unfold, holding onto the windowsill for support as her stiff muscles stretch. “Hi,” she greets as her fingers dig into the tender spot in her spine. “Fancy meeting the three of you here.” 

“Were you eavesdropping?” Michael asks- accuses, really, looking down the bridge of his nose at her. She had never stopped to notice, but he’s the taller of the three and easily the most intimidating one. 

“Not on purpose.” She waves the book in the air and slips the bookmark into place. “I just wanted to avoid this... Conversation.” 

“How much did you hear?” He demands, and really, all his attempts at intimidating her and making her cower are quickly becoming annoying.

“Enough to know I still stink, apparently,” she replies dryly, mirroring his stance and crossing her arms as well. 

Michael harrumphs and turns around on his heels to leave without another word. Byleth watches him for a moment before turning her eyes to the other two, dropping her arms and easing the frown off her face. 

“Forgive him for his rudeness, Professor Eisner.” Isaac bows shallowly. “It is just that-” 

“The Sword of the Creator was not meant to be handled so carelessly,” Seteth cuts in sternly, hands behind his back and all. The perfect picture of a vice-principal. 

It’s a clear lie if Byleth has seen any, but she doesn’t call him out on it. There’s more to the issue they were discussing than just her and Rhea handling the sword without any gloves and other proper equipments. Not to mention that the sword was not meant to be there in the first place, from what she’s heard.

“I know, I’m sorry. My eagerness got ahead of me.” It’s not a complete lie, to be honest. She tugs at the sleeve of her black sweater, brushing away a stray white hair that clung to the material. “It seems it’s time I give Sothis a proper bath, though.” 

That makes the brothers pause, her statement clearly confusing them. “Give Sothis... A bath?” Isaac tone is puzzled and, strangely, horrified.

“Yes.” They continue to stare at her, bewilderment all over their faces. It would be funny if she didn’t feel so embarrassed. “You know, Sothis? My cat?” Byleth pulls her phone out of her pocket and taps the screen to show them the wallpaper, a picture of the beautiful Ordelian cat peering at the camera with striking green eyes from her perch on the windowsill. “Flayn asks about her a lot. I thought she’d told you about her.” 

“Why... Did you name her that?” Seteth asks eventually, really slowly, as if he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

Byleth shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m a history major?”

Isaac breathes out a chuckle and ruffles the long bangs framing his face. “Right, I remember now that Flayn mentioned the cat before. A lovely name, professor, if I may say so.”

“Yes,” Seteth drawls again, still frowning at her. “Lovely.”

“I will go after Mac. Excuse me.” Isaac swiftly leaves the mezzanine and library altogether, leaving Byleth and Seteth alone.

She leans on the closest table and massages the back of her neck, already feeling the consequences of such awkward reading position. A good soak in warm water will certainly help, and she looks forward to it.

“I named her after my imaginary friend as a kid,” she comments, wanting to share with him a part of her life. Bonding, right? It’s supposed to bring people closer together.

“You had an imaginary friend?” He continues to sound incredulous. “And it was named Sothis?”

Byleth nods, head bent as she continues to press her fingers into her neck and shoulders. “Yeah. She showed up some time after my mom passed away. Dad used to think it was my way of coping with the loss.”

Sothis was a little girl, her hair and eyes of a dark shade of green. Her hairstyle was choppy and messy, much like her own used to be thanks to her dad insisting on cutting it himself like her mother used to do. Sothis used to wear an intricate purple dress covered in golden jewelry, and had ribbons in her hair. Byleth doesn’t know how she imagined all that at such a young age.

She remembers she used to have full conversations with Sothis in her room, or in her head as she went from one class to the next. Sothis would float nearby and kick out her feet while Byleth was busy with homework or practicing a new move she learned that afternoon.

It’s been years since the last time she saw Sothis, but sometimes Byleth thinks she hears that same impish voice scolding her from the back of her mind. Only now, the impish voice sounds older. 

“I see. The loss of someone special can impact us on many different ways.” Seteth averts his gaze, looking out the window behind her. “It makes sense that a child would have an imaginary friend in the wake of losing a parent.” 

She can’t decipher his tone or read his eyes, his face guarded and distant as if he were looking into some time long past. Byleth thinks of what Flayn shared with her, about her mother passing away long ago, and thinks how hard it must have been on her to grow up without her mother, too. How her brothers must have grieved and worked together to raise her to the best of their capabilities. 

Byleth knows how hard Jeralt had tried to juggle single parenting and his job, enrolling her in different classes that would keep her busy during his work hours. From karate to soccer to even ballet, Byleth was all over the place. 

All of that certainly helped her socialize, even if it was an unusual way to raise a child, but it has its perks and downsides. While she moves fluidly on the training mat, Byleth still sucks at dancing. She learned to use the public transport at an early age, though. That was certainly handy, especially in the years to come. 

She wonders if they were lucky enough to have an old lady next door to help them when Flayn was feeling fussy.

“Hey, um...” She starts, fiddling with the fiction book. “I know you think I’m incompetent and all that, but if you ever need some help with Flayn for anything, let me know.”

Seteth turns his eyes back to her. “I mean no offense, but why would I go for you for help?”

“I hope you know that I feel offended regardless,” she remarks. Would it kill him to just say thank you and move on even if he’ll taker take her up on her offer? “I know life would have been easier if my dad had someone nearby that could look after me in the times he had to work overnight or had to leave for some weekend training. So I’m just offering to help if something comes up and no one is available to look after her, that’s all.”

He mulls over her offer, frowning at the space between his feet. “I will consider it.” 

That’s the best response she’ll get out of him. Byleth nods and excuses herself from the library. He’s sure to come running when Flayn gets her first period, she knows it.

* * *

Byleth leaves the faculty building with the intent of looking through the greenhouse again, or just killing some time on the dock by the fishing pond with a borrowed rod from the stall next to it, but she gets sidetracked. 

Cutting a shortcut through the dining hall, her attention is quickly caught by cheers coming from the kitchen. It’s too early still for the staff to be cooking dinner for the students, so she deviates from her original plan and heads for the kitchen instead, attracted by the gleeful voices of students. 

Inside, she sees Mercedes, Dedue, Ashe and Flayn, all of them wearing aprons and circling a table where a tray of freshly baked treats and a cake decorated with a few icing flowers rest. Ashe has flour dusting his face, and Flayn has a smear of vanilla filling on her cheek. 

With Mercedes concentrated as she demonstrates how make an icing rose, and both Flayn and Ashe watching with rapt attention, Dedue is the one who notices her arrival. He nods at her, and she quietly joins his side to get a closer look. Byleth was aware that Mercedes is known as the best baker out of all of the students, but she hadn’t known how skilled she was until now. Mercedes easily puts the flower together with controlled strokes of her hand as she gently twirls the piping rod with the other. 

The youngest students make mutual noises of awe and lean even closer when Mercedes presents the finished rose with a _“ta-da!”_. It’s only when she’s put down the piping bag filled with pink icing that Mercedes notices her there. “Hello, professor. What brings you to the Academy today?”

“I wanted to see how the Academy would celebrate the Goddess’s Rebirth.” And she even scored an opportunity to see the Sword of the Creator from up close

Ashe leans his elbows on the table, smearing his arms with more flour. “Are you religious, professor?”

“Not at all. Just interested in learning about different cultures, religions and such.” She looks from him to the student of the second year. “You’re from Duscur, aren’t you?” 

Dedue is one of the quietest students; one of the most cautious too. He has very few friends and is usually only seen in the company of Dimitri, Ashe or Mercedes - mostly Dimitri, though. Byleth doesn’t know if he is like that because that just happens to be his personality, or if some of the long standing prejudice against his people that never truly disappeared is responsible for it, but she’s not about to ask. She accepts him as he is, just as he accepts her.

Even so, with the trust he has put on her as his teacher, he still tenses up further when she mentions his home. “Yes, I am.”

“Would you tell me more about your culture if you have the time?” She asks, satisfied when his shoulders loosen up some. “I took some classes in university, but I would love to hear it from someone who truly understands the matter.” 

“Of course.” Though he nods solemnly, the lines on his face soften slightly. “It would be my pleasure.” 

Mercedes transfers the baked treats to a plate and steps aside to let Flayn spread some glaze on top. The young girl seems proud for some unknown reason until she sets a fork gently on the plate and pushes it towards Byleth. “Mercedes was teaching us how to bake! Please, professor, try mine first.” 

Byleth is only too happy to oblige. She’s as much of a foodie as Ingrid and Raphael, and it just so happens that she’s starting to feel hungry this late in the afternoon. The treat is a sweet dough with a sugary glaze on top, rolled in itself like a spiral. The sweet, spicy-hot smell of cinnamon confirms her suspicions that it is a cinnamon roll. It’s a bit hard to cut with the fork, and looks a bit dry, but Byleth is confident that Flayn did a good job with the taste. 

She puts the piece in her mouth and chews slowly to savor the flavor, and instantly regrets it. Her taste buds are assaulted by _salt_ , tons of it, and she maintains a straight face as Flayn watches intently, eager for a feedback. Mercedes looks on like a concerned mentor, and Ashe and Dedue wait patiently for her reaction. 

What can she say so she won’t hurt Flayn’s feelings? Byleth feels like she’slicking rock salt, or that a wave just swallowed her up as she played innocently in the sea. She needs water so badly. 

Finally, she swallows and rubs her tongue on the roof of her mouth in an attempt to ease the uncomfortable feeling. “What is this?”

“A cinnamon roll!” Flayn supplies happily, her clasped hands and wide eyes making Byleth feel guiltier for what she’s about to say. 

“It’s- uh- it’s a bit salty, Flayn.” She winces internally as the girl’s face falls and rushes to add, “But it looks beautiful! It’s golden and the glaze is shiny!” 

“Salty?” Mercedes frowns delicately and cuts a piece for herself, choking a bit as she starts chewing. “O-Oh, I see...”

Flayn dips her head and shakes it in dismay. “Oh no, did I swap the sugar for salt once again?” She turns around to hide her face (and the incoming tears, Byleth realizes in a panic). “I am so sorry, professor! Had I known, I would have never given it to you.”

Dedue places a cup of tea in front of Byleth, sweet and just cool enough to wash away the salt clinging to her tongue. “Was it the first time you baked a cinnamon roll?” Flayn nods slowly, and Mercedes places an arm around her shoulders for comfort. “That explains it. No one does things correctly the first time.” 

“The professor is right,” Mercedes agrees as she pats the top of Flayn’s head. “Practice makes perfect. Don’t let one setback put you down, Flayn. Keep trying!” 

Flayn sniffs quietly and nods once again before turning around in Mercedes’s hold, face set into a mask of determination, small hands fisted tightly. “Okay! Can we try again now?” 

“I don’t see why not.” Mercedes looks at both boys for their input. “Would you like to continue?” 

Ashe nods and pats the flour that clings to his clothes; it does little to rid himself of it. “Yeah! Can you teach me a gingerbread recipe, Mercedes?” 

“Of course.” She smiles sweetly at Deude when he nods and silently picks up the cooking book nearby. “Do you want to join us, professor?”

Byleth steals a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. There’s still enough time left until her dad’s shift is over for an impromptu cooking lesson with Mercedes. “Sure. Teach me the cinnamon roll recipe, please. Flayn and I are gonna ace it.” Flayn grins brightly once again, and Byleth rolls up her sleeves as Ashe looks for a spare apron.

All in all, she enjoys the baking lesson. Byleth had never thought she would be spending some casual time with her students aside from the small birthday parties, but as it turns out, they’re fun to be around. Ashe and Flayn are so enthusiastic, and Dedue listens with rapt attention as Mercedes imparts her baking knowledge with them. As Flayn kneads the dough, which Byleth helped her make correctly this time, Dedue and Mercedes swap cooking tips over a cup of tea, with Ashe piping up every so often as he measures the ingredients for his gingerbread. 

By the end of the afternoon, the kitchen is fragrant with the smell of spices and sugar. The baked goods were a success, and Flayn cheers loudly as she jumps in place and celebrates the perfect cinnamon roll she baked. They enjoy their treats, and Byleth wraps up one of the rolls to take to her dad. 

She’s biting into the gingerbread Ashe baked when Seteth, once again, makes his presence known. “Flayn? I have been looking all over for you. What were you doing here?”

“Hello, brother! Mercedes was teaching us how to bake sweet treats.” Quickly, she scurries to his side with the tray of cinnamon rolls. “Please, try these!” 

Seteth stares at the tray before reaching for one of the sweet treats, taking a bite of the still warm roll and humming in surprise at the taste. Even with sugar glaze on the corner of his lips, he looks more composed and posh than Byleth has ever felt in her whole life _._ “This is delicious, Flayn.” 

“Right! The professor helped me with the dough!” Seteth chokes slightly on the next bite, his gaze falling on Byleth, just now noticing her there. She continues to chew on her treat unbothered and offers him a nonchalant wave. “Oh, I cannot wait to bake these with Brother Isaac this weekend!” 

Clearing his throat, Seteth looks away as his tongue sweeps out to lick at the glaze on his lips. Byleth catches herself watching it almost too intently and frowns inwardly. Damn, maybe it’s time to get out of this denial state and just accept that Seteth isn’t so bad to look at. He’s even kind of hot for someone who’s so stiff and kind of an asshole. Accepting the truth will make the next time she catches herself ogling him less awkward. 

“Congratulations, professor. You both did a good job.” His shoulders are tense as he turns around. “We will be leaving soon, Flayn. And I suggest you all start cleaning up before the kitchen staff comes.” 

With that, he takes his leave, still holding onto the half eaten cinnamon roll. Mercedes quickly wipes her hands clean and pulls her phone out of the pocket of her apron. “Before we start, can we take a picture? Today was so fun, I really want to remember it!”

“Sure!” Ashe chirps and quickly moves over to Byleth’s side, where she’s sitting on a stool with an empty plate in front of her on the table. Flayn mirrors him, and Mercedes stands by her side, holding out the camera in front of them. “Come on, Dedue!”

Slowly and with much hesitation, or perhaps reluctance, Dedue moves to stand behind Ashe and Byleth, crouching down to fit in the frame. He doesn’t smile as Flayn exclaims _cheese!_ and Mercedes snaps some pictures in quick succession, but later they will notice his stern expression softened once again.

Later, Byleth will get the picture printed and framed, and will develop the habit of capturing good memories with her students whenever she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, I just took some traits of the college I attend and shoved them onto Garreg Mach akhafkja I thought it was fitting to have nuns around, considering my college is a catholic one and we do have nuns around for many reasons. I'll be taking some things from my own high school experience as well; for the most part, I don't think you'll see much of the American schooling system reflected here. 
> 
> Now! I'm glad to say my writer's block has been mostly dealt with :^) I've been rewriting some very old fics and worked on smaller, casual ones and it's helped a lot. But! This month is going to be absolutely hectic because of college, so I won't have as much time to work on this fic as I did before. Sadly I don't think I'll be able to update this until the next month; at first, I was going to wait until things calmed down, but I didn't want to leave you all waiting too long kjfhaj
> 
> (That part about believers wearing red hoods is a reference to New Moon, btw!)
> 
> Thank you for all the support, kudos and comments left! Even though I'm slow, I'll try my best to reply to each one of you individually! 💗


	6. an unexpected call

Students are whispering more and more lately. They’re always gossiping, as she’s come to find, about anything and everything. Even her impromptu shopping trip with Seteth for Flayn’s birthday made its rounds in the rumor mill, keeping the students entertained for about a week, and she caught wind of them betting on the true nature of their relationship. 

The mere concept that she and Seteth could be secret lovers is absurdly funny to her, mostly because he holds a great dislike towards her person and doesn’t try to hide it at all. 

She will admit, only to herself (and at most to Manuela if Byleth ever gets drunk enough), that she finds him attractive. She can tell he has a nice physique under the button up shirts and slacks, his facial features are pleasant to look at, his hair seems silky, and the color of his eyes is captivating. But his personality is just not it, and physical attraction alone isn’t enough for her. 

As much as opposites attract, her personality and his can only crash and collide. Not that it matters, anyway.

Byleth is returning from the gym when she overhears a group of students from the third year talking by the sturdy stone parapet that overlooks the valley below. “Keira from the first year said she saw a masked man walking around the Academy last night.”

“No way!” One of them gasps in surprise. “Could it be someone sneaked in?” 

“I think it was just one of the students playing a prank,” another one says, skeptical. “You know that guy? Sylvain from the second year? He would totally do something like that.” 

“Yeah,” another one agrees, loudly chewing on a piece of gum. “Maybe it’s his latest tactics to get a girl. Ugh.” 

Silently, Byleth agrees in the sentiment.

“I don’t know,” the first one speaks again, uncertain. “I heard some girls have gone missing in towns nearby.” 

“You’ve been staying awake too late past curfew watching creepy videos, Nat.” The girl with the gum huffs. “It’s making you paranoid.”

She’s too far now to catch any more of what they’re saying, but Byleth doesn’t recall seeing any reports on missing people these past days. Then again, she’s been so focused on putting together the history test for the upcoming midterms that she’s barely kept up with any news around her. She’ll ask her dad about it later. 

Byleth is about to head up the stairs to the faculty offices when she’s stopped by Mercedes. “Professor, may I ask a favor?” 

“Of course. What is it?”

Mercedes smiles sweetly. “It’s just, I’ve noticed some students have gone to you for counsel on many things.” Yes, they have. Byleth never considered herself to be good at giving advice, but still they come to her often asking for her opinion on different matters. “I was wondering if you would be able to lend a hand to the nun who runs the advice box in the cathedral?”

Byleth considers her words. “... Advice box?” 

“Yes. Students write letters with their concerns and drop them in the box to receive an advice later. With the amount of letters being dropped off because of midterms, the nun has been overwhelmed.”

“Ah...” Byleth really wants to decline. She’s not all that great, but she does have the time to spare. And she’s certain Mercedes is making puppy dog eyes at her, because refusing her request right now seems very difficult all of the sudden. “Okay, I will talk to her once midterms are over.” 

Mercedes beams brilliantly at her. How come this girl is the embodiment of sunshine? “Thank you, professor! I will bake you a batch of cookies to return the favor.” 

“You really don’t need to.” She shakes her head, but knows that Mercedes will do it anyway. The girl skips away after bidding her goodbye, and Byleth adds another item to her schedule.

* * *

Verdant Rain Moon brings with it frequent rain showers and rainbows that color the sky once the downpour ceases. Mushrooms pop up throughout the grassy courtyards and the stone walls of the buildings, and weeds grow at a faster rate. The gardening staff spends most of the dry moments of the day trimming the grass and bushes, and keeping the gardens looking presentable despite the constant rain and the unwelcome additions it brings.

The new moon also brings the first midterms of her blossoming career. Tensions are high among the student body as they spend their free time studying in preparation to the incoming tests, and Byleth notices the appearance of dark shadows beneath the eyes of some students from lack of sleep.

Many of the first years seek her during her free hours in the Academy for further explanations on topics learnt in the classroom. While the founding of the Adrestian Empire is easier to grasp, many of them still stumble through the events that took place in the War of Heroes. That is to be expected, and it doesn’t surprise her that they struggle with it. The War of Heroes was marked by many minor battles scattered across the continent, though the Battle of Gronder and the one at Tailtean Plains are the most important ones. 

Students of the second year are going over the events of the War of Enlightenment, from the chain of events in the year of 1880 that lead to the Adrestian Empire declaring war on the Church of Seiros to the following six years of conflict. The third year have fairly easier topics to study, such as the technological development that began a few decades after the War of Enlightenment was over and quickly spread across the land. 

On the last week of classes before midterms are set to begin, Byleth sets up a joint seminar with the three classes to do another recap with the students, focusing on the bigger events for each class in chronological order. She tapes one big map of Fódlan to the blackboard, drawing circles on it as she explains each of the smaller battles that escalated to the Battle of Gronder and, finally, the Battle of Tailtean.

“After each victory, the Empire claimed a new region to their expanding territory.” It’s quiet enough in the classroom that her voice echoes within its stone walls, only the quiet scratching of pen on paper providing them with another source of noise. “Saint Seiros often battled alongside Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg and part of the Ten Elites. They travelled through southern roads until they reached the first conflict with Nemesis at Gronder Field. We’ll tackle that later.

“The remaining Elites and the Four Saints took to the northern roads. Around that time, about half of the continent had already been subjugated to the Empire, which made travelling easier and faster. The real battles began once they crossed this area,” she traces the line of the river cutting from Magdreg Way to the sea with her finger, “the border between the regions we now call Adrestia and Faerghus.” 

Byleth uncaps her red pen and circles a particular lake. “One of Saint Indech’s most notable battles took place in Lake Teutates, where he spent most of his life and considered it his home. It was ravaged during the war, and he sought to reclaim it with the aid of Charon and Lamine. His excellent bow prowess combined with Lamine’s magical spells and Charon’s swordsmanship guaranteed their victory. Can anyone name the weapons wielded by them?” 

Linhardt lifts his hand slowly. “Saint Indech’s bow was called The Inexaustible.” 

“Lamine’s weapons were the Rafail gem for enhanced magic power, and the Tathlum Bow,” Ferdinand follows up.

Lastly, Caspar adds, “Charon’s weapon was the sword Thunderbrand!” 

Byleth nods her approval. “Very good. While Indech stayed in Lake Teutates, the other Saints continued onward to other battles. Dominic and Goneril followed Saint Macuil towards the Oghma Mountains where they would rendezvous with Saint Seiros and Wilhelm after the Battle at Gronder. The strategic plans he came up with were essential in clearing the way to the mountains, made more effective by the help of the Elites.”

Lysithea lifts her hand before Byleth can propose the question. “Dominic’s weapon was the Crusher, an axe.”

Beside her, Cyril pipes up. “Goneril’s weapon was also an axe called Freikugel.” 

She gives them both a thumbs up, then circles a spot just above Lake Teutates. “Meanwhile, Saint Cichol and Saint Cethleann made their way to Rhodos Coast with Gloucester and Riegan. Despite the fairly remote location, it was one of the most gruesome battles. It is said the waters of Lake Teutates were tinged red for years to come after the altercation there, and the same is said to Rhodos Coast. Years were needed until all the blood that soaked the sand was completely washed away. To commemorate his victory, a shrine for Saint Cichol was built in an islet near the shore and it stands there to this day.” 

Byleth turns to a pair of students in question, intending to ask the one most interested in both Saints, but stops short. Flayn looks nauseated, her face lacking its usual rosy blush that colors her cheeks. “Are you alright, Flayn?” Byleth walks closer to the desk the girl shares with Linhardt to get a closer look at her, concern wrapping itself around her heart. “Would you like to go to the infirmary?” 

Flayn hesitates, but eventually nods and slowly stands up from her chair. Byleth looks over at Linhardt, a bit of detached concern in his eyes as he watches Flayn with his usual impassiveness. “Can you accompany her?”

“Yeah, sure.” He, too, slowly stands up with a yawn. “Saint Cethleann’s weapon was the Caduceus Staff. It increased the range of her offensive magic attacks and enhanced the power of her healing white magic.”

Byleth offers him a nod.” Good. Now go. And come back to class straight after. No detours.” She will not tolerate getting an earful from Seteth later because Linhardt decided to nap in some grassy spot like a cat instead of returning to his lecture.

With that, he escorts Flayn out of the classroom, letting her hold onto his arm for added balance. Byleth would like to accompany Flayn herself if she could, but she can’t put class on hold and leave them unattended unless it’s urgent. 

Byleth sighs quietly and asks no one in particular. “Well?”

“Riegan’s weapon was the bow Failnaught,” Claude provides, tipping his chair back until it’s balanced on its hind legs. “And the Sword of Begalta.”

“Gloucester wielded the Axe of Ukonvasara,” Dimitri supplies from the front row, smiling when she nods in approval on her way back to the front of the classroom.

“Saint Cichol’s weapon was the Spear of Assal,” Felix says, sounding bored as he usually does. 

Beside him, Sylvain snickers, “Hehe, Spear of _Ass_ al,” and earns a punch to his shoulder delivered by his desk partner. In front of him, Ingrid twists around in her seat to try to hit him as well, but he moves away before her hand can connect. She gives him a fierce glare instead that could make one wither on the spot.

Byleth sighs to herself and moves on to another topic.

* * *

During the first midterms of her life as a teacher, students of all three years are mixed together and split between the classrooms to lower the chances of them cheating. She paces around the room slowly, the click of her heels echoing in a slow rhythm as a reminder that they shouldn’t try anything funny. 

There are too many students taking tests for a single teacher to look after them, so the faculty is split in small groups to keep an eye on them. At the front of the second year classroom, Isaac stands before the teacher’s desk, his light green eyes sweeping over the room. By the closed doors, Seteth provides another pair of watchful eyes, scanning the room in that analytical way of his, trying to catch signs that anyone could be trying to cheat. 

“Professor Byleth.” Ashe calls quietly as she walks past, and she joins his side, bending down to better hear him. “I marked the wrong option on my test. What should I do?” 

She thinks of Seteth’s instructions before the tests were handed out, the right color of pen to be used, how to compose the written answers appropriately, how to properly mark the multiple choices, this and that, and how a multiple choice question would be annulled should there be two answers selected, even if one of them turned out to be the correct one. 

Of the two tests the students are taking today, this one in particular happens to be the history one, so she says in a whisper, “Fill in the circles of the correct choices with ink to tell them apart. I’ll remember.” 

Ashe nods gratefully and she steps back to resume her pacing. Byleth catches Seteth’s eyes, sees the deep scowl on his face and the downward tug of the frown on his lips. His whole posture is stiff, fingers digging into his crossed arms, and she wonders if he overheard the exchange by any chance. It shouldn’t be possible; there was a fair distance between them and she was being quiet, and in the off chance that he heard it, then he would have stepped in immediately. 

The more she looks, the more it seems like he’s in physical pain. She lifts a questioning eyebrow at him, to which he replies with a curt shake of his head before focusing on a spot just above her shoulder. 

Shrugging to herself, she turns around to walk in the other direction, catching the uncharacteristic playful little on Isaac’s lips as he stares ahead, likely meeting Seteth’s gaze. They hold a brief silent conversation before the smile vanishes and the geography teacher schools his expression into neutrality again. Byleth doesn’t comment on the oddity of it, and it soon escapes her mind as the first students begin turning in their tests.

One by one, they leave the classroom and meet in the courtyard outside to discuss the answers. When Flayn is the one to call for her to turn in the tests, Byleth notices that her face is once again pale. Seteth shares quiet words with Flayn before she goes, and Byleth looks over the contents of the paper as she slowly walks to the teacher’s desk. 

Flayn’s handwriting is steady, an elegant script that seems almost ancient, as she discourses about Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg’s first policies as the emperor and anything Adrestian Empire related. As Flayn delves into the questions regarding the War of Heroes, her handwriting starts becoming uneven, the practiced grace of her strokes becoming wobbly. By the time Flayn is describing the main wars fought by the Saints, the script becomes nearly illegible. 

Byleth places the tests on the table with the others and worries her bottom lip between her teeth, frowning at the polished wood. “Is everything alright, Professor Eisner?” Isaac asks in a concerned whisper.

She shakes her head slightly to clear it. “Yes, I just spaced out for a bit.” Byleth offers him a brief smile and quickly approaches Hapi when the student is finished as well, but soon her thoughts start circling around Flayn again.

Maybe Flayn is like Linhardt; as much as she loves learning and talking about the Saints, all the bloodshed they found themselves in makes her uneasy. Although, Byleth doesn’t remember if Flayn ever had problems in the lab when they were required to prickle their fingers for studies. She certainly remembers that Linhardt had been carried out by Raphael once, though. 

Regardless, she makes a mental note to keep an eye on Flayn. If it happens again, Byleth will bring it up to one of her brothers. It could be something important concerning her health.

The first morning of tests wraps up with a hearty meal served in the dining hall. Byleth makes herself scarce as soon as she leaves the classroom with the history tests inside a manila folder tucked beneath her arm, briskly walking to the teachers’ lounge before any student can find her and try to get an early evaluation of the grade they got. Catherine seems to have had the same idea, already sitting in one of the desks with her physics tests piled high.

Byleth doesn’t plan on starting corrections and gradings soon, but she takes the time to pile the tests alphabetically and by year. She hopes some of the students, like Sylvain and Hilda, took this seriously. They are often the ones to turn in the laziest essays, and she’s not looking forward to chewing them out for their poor performance on a test. She can’t give them second chances now. 

She’s just finished organizing the papers when the rest of the faculty returns from the dining hall. Manuela makes a beeline towards her, a brown paper bag in her hands and a frown on her face.

Before she can say anything, Byleth pipes up, “Don’t frown like that. You’ll get wrinkles.” 

Manuela inhales sharply and rubs a fingertip between her brows to ease the muscles there. “You’re right. Next time, do text me that you’re not joining us, okay? I thought some student had kidnapped you and was trying to bargain a better grade.” 

She laughs at her own joke and sits down beside Byleth, presenting her with the paper bag. Inside, Byleth finds a couple of sandwiches, a pear, and a small bottle of lemonade. “Thanks! On a similar topic, have you heard any rumors about girls being kidnapped?” 

“Oh dear, it’s all the theatre kids have been talking about for the past week.” Manuela sighs quietly and crosses her legs. “And you know how dramatic theatre kids are. They blow it out of proportion.”

Manuela smiles slightly as Byleth bites into the sandwich with a satisfied sigh. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until food was placed in front of her, and Manuela just happened to pick her favorite sandwich of the menu. She has to make the conscious effort to eat slowly and not scarf down both sandwiches in a minute.

“Seteth.” Manuela calls as he takes a seat on a nearby couch. “Have you heard anything about these kidnappings?”

“Flayn has informed me of these rumors.” He opens a book up on his lap, but Byleth can’t see what it’s about. “However baseless they seem to me, I have spoken with the security team about it. Nothing of the sort was seen on camera.” 

“That’s good to know,” Manuela murmurs, tapping a manicured nail on her thigh. “The kids should calm down, now.” 

“There really is nothing to worry about,” he says and tunes them out as he begins reading. 

* * *

The rest of the week goes much the same, with Byleth and two other teachers watching over the students as they scribble incessantly in the mornings. On one occasion, she has to share the room with Manuela and Hanneman, and she’s glad to find that they are professional enough to keep from bickering in the classroom.

She’s not as lucky when lunch rolls around and they start nitpicking at each other.

When Friday comes and the midterms are over, groans of relief are heard as the students pop their knuckles and walk out of the classroom. The chatter in the dining hall is subdued as they make plans to catch up on lost hours of sleep this coming weekend, and some start early by taking naps after lunch. The sky is dark with the threat of rain, and the sound of it pattering on the windows later is sure to lull them into a restful sleep. 

Before settling down to finish grading the tests so she can enjoy her weekend, Byleth makes her way to the cathedral to speak with the nun who runs the advice box. A light drizzle accompanies her as she crosses the bridge, the distant rumble of thunder a reminder that it will pick up soon.

She’s given a stack of letters as the nun explains how it works: just write a reply and slip it into the same envelope with the original letter, then return it to her so they can be delivered to the right students. Byleth thinks it would be easier if they were to use emails or text messages, but she has to admit that this way the whole exchange feels more personal and humane. 

By the time the nun is done and has retreated to some corner of the cathedral, rain is pouring steadily outside and it’s sure to leave her drenched should she try to cross the bridge now. Byleth sits on one of the pews and opens the letter on top of the stack, quickly scanning it to get an idea of what she’s dealing with. 

Halfway through Dorothea’s venting letter about the whispers that follow her around, loud squelching footsteps catch her attention. She looks up to see a thoroughly drenched Seteth entering the cathedral from its western door, shirt and slacks clinging to his frame. Byleth had been right in her assumption that he _is_ actually fit under his clothes, and as they plaster on his skin, she can see just how nicely shaped his torso actually is. 

It’s almost weird to think that he’s this fit considering the slow pace of their jobs, but then again, Byleth doesn’t know what he does after he leaves the academy. If she works out frequently in the Academy’s facilities, who is to say he doesn’t go to a gym somewhere?

She puts away the letters and stands to join him by the door as he tries to squeeze excess water out of his clothes as best as he can. He startles as she approaches and eyes the folded handkerchief she offers in bewilderment (and mild suspicion). Byleth shrugs slightly and pushes it further in his direction; it’s not much, but at least he can dry his face.

“Thank you.” Seteth takes the handkerchief and pats his face dry, then uses it to soak up some water from his hair. 

“We keep on running into each other here, don’t we?” She comments, loosely crossing her arms under her bust. The cathedral is where she sees him the most outside the dining hall and faculty building, as well as his siblings. 

“Yes. If you are not a believer, then what brings you here so often?” There it is again, that look in his eyes that says he’s trying to figure her out. It’s become a more common expression than his frown when he talks to her lately, and she can’t tell when it began or what it is about her that he’s trying to unveil.

He knows her past, where she’s lived for the last ten years, her family, her curriculum - it’s not like she is one of those wandering mercenaries of old that stumbled into his life by chance. 

“Well, it’s an old building. There’s much to be seen in a construction from circa 185. That was nearly two thousand years ago.” She looks around the cathedral as she answers his question. “But I came here today for the letters in the advice box.”

“I see,” he replies after a lengthy pause and looks down at the handkerchief she borrowed. “So you have kept it.” 

She looks at his hands and sees him tracing with his thumb the initials stitched in one of the corners in verdant thread, _S.N_. “Of course I did. It was a gift.” 

“A gift,” he exhales, and it sounds so much like a chuckle that it makes her pause. It’s rare to hear any joyful sounds from him, and her stomach flips in response. It sounds nice. “I do believe gifts are meant to be brand new things bought with the person in mind, not used ones.” 

“Don’t hate on the handkerchief.” Byleth reaches over to tug it away from his grasp, bumping her fingers with his. His skin is cold from the rain. “I appreciate everything that is given to me, brand new or not.” 

“That is a good mindset to have, I suppose.” She hums noncommittally and folds the handkerchief again.

“Were you in the Goddess Tower just now?” He nods, not revealing his business there, not that she cares for that particular detail. “What is it like inside?”

At that, he makes an inquisitive noise. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ll get another lucky shot at seeing one of the closed off spaces of Garreg Mach again,” she explains, recalling that one time when Rhea granted her permission to go into the Holy Mausoleum with her and the Nabateas. “What does it look like on the inside?” 

Seteth is struck dumb for a moment, and Byleth is left to wonder if her excitement showed through. She tries to curb it when it comes to historical things, the one topic that could get her to talk for hours on end, but sometimes it’s stronger than her. 

“I do hope Miss Rhea will not repeat that again,” he says at length, and she feels something inside her deflate. Of course he would focus on that. So much for feeling like she finally could hold a normal conversation with him. “But to answer your question, it is clean, for one. No cobwebs or dust as one would expect from an ancient construction.” 

Her lips part in surprise, and she can only blink her widened eyes at him. “What?” He asks, now fixing the collar of his shirt and the cuffs at his wrists. Is he feeling uncomfortable?

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect you would reply.” He scoffs, and she presses on. “Tell me more.”

Seteth fixes her with a look, but complies. “The structure is fairly open, as you can see. Daylight illuminates it well, but at nighttime, one would need candles or a lantern inside. It is one of the few parts of Garreg Mach that was not adapted to have electricity due to its historical and religious importance. There are vines creeping on some walls. Personally, I think they add some charm to the tower.” 

“It sounds amazing. Thank you.” She looks away from him, but not fast enough to miss the pinch between his brows. Looking past him at the Goddess Tower in the distance, Byleth notices that the heavy rain has relented. “It’s stopped raining as hard. We can leave.” 

“Finally,” he murmurs under his breath. “These wet clothes are highly uncomfortable.” 

Byleth steals a glance at his broad back as he walks past before following him from a distance. “Yeah,” she replies distractedly, eyes roving down below to his hips. “I’m sure they are.” 

They return to the faculty in a surprisingly amiable silence. Byleth doesn’t know how long this friendly atmosphere will last, but at least it serves as proof that their relationship doesn’t have to be strained all the time. If only he would stop looking for flaws in everything she does, or look at her with mistrust whenever she’s speaking with Flayn, which happens often, then maybe they could be colleagues. Friends, even. 

Seteth slips into his office and she continues towards the teachers’ lounge to retrieve her stuff and head home earlier this afternoon. She finds Manuela inside, a makeup pocket mirror in hand as she tries the many different shades of lipstick scattered on the table before her. Byleth had known Manuela owns an extensive collection of makeup, but she didn’t think her friend would carry twenty lipsticks in her purse at all times. 

Manuela turns to her and grins. “Byleth! Please, help me pick a lipstick for tonight! There are so many options.” 

Byleth looks over the assemble that ranges from nude shades to oranges to deep reds, and purses her lips. Makeup has never been her strongest suit. The most she will do on a daily basis is apply lip balm and mascara if she feels like it. The few lipsticks she owns are of light shades and the most she can do is a winged eyeliner if she tries too hard and spends an hour on each eye.

“Don’t you have to take into consideration your outfit and eyeshadow?” She asks tentatively, and Manuela promptly picks up her phone.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be wearing this.” She taps the screen a few times and turns the phone around to show the outfit of choice. The dress is held up by two straps connected to golden circle, which in turn is attached to a choker around her neck, leaving the shoulders exposed and revealing much of her cleavage with the deep V cut of the front. Her upper back is also left uncovered, and slits on both sides of the skirt show skin up to the top of her thighs.

“Wow,” Byleth blurts out, and Manuela nods her head excitedly. She really is going all out with this.

“Exactly. _Wow_. So, which lipstick?” She waves her hand at her collection expectantly, and beams when Byleth points uncertainly at a coral colored one. “Great choice, professor.” 

Byleth smiles a little helplessly and hoists her bag onto her shoulder. “Be careful tonight, yeah? Call me if you need anything. I can give him a good beating if he turns out to be a creep.” 

Manuela laughs and reaches out to squeeze her hand. “Only if you let me kick him in the nuts first.”

They snicker quietly. “Of course. Bye, Manuela. Good luck.” Byleth waves and backtracks her steps, briefly stopping at her father’s office to ask him what he wants for dinner before heading to the parking lot.

A few weeks ago, Jeralt bought them a second car, an old truck of a faded green shade that still runs smoothly. Perfect for their rare fishing trips, he’d said as he patted the trunk firmly, and she had to agree. It would be easier to store their supplies, and now she wouldn’t need to wait for his shift to be over so they could go home.

Byleth had thought he would gift her the old used car, but in the end, her dad had allowed her to keep their black jeep instead, which he bought two years ago when he wanted to get rid of the silver sedan they used to own, a car better suited for single older men the likes of Seteth. 

She thinks the color of the truck may have swayed him into buying it. It resembles the color of her mother’s hair, as she’d come to realize one evening when she was dusting the framed pictures on the mantle of the fireplace. 

Byleth misses her mother, of course, even if the pain of the loss has diminished over time. And her dad, well, he’s known Sitri for much longer and continues to love her deeply to this day. He lights candles on her birthdays and buys flowers on their anniversary. Byleth does the same when Mother’s Day rolls around, and they sometimes visit her grave, her body buried alongside her family here in Remire. 

It’s both touching and sad how he still clings to her memory and continues to cherish her. The truck is parked beside the jeep, and she watches it for a minute, imagining her mother filling its trunk with gardening supplies and saplings for their new yard. 

Byleth enters the jeep and shuts the door. She’d be happy with either of the cars, but she has to admit the jeep has its advantages and it’s not even the parking sensor. Byleth can easily hook up her phone via bluetooth and blast her songs at the highest volume as she drives home without her dad being there to judge her for her taste in music, and that’s exactly what she does, picking one of her favorite albums for the ride.

At home, Sothis comes up to her from whichever corner she’s been using as a napping spot, white tail up in the air as she purrs and rubs her face on Byleth’s legs in greeting. “Hey, girl.” She crouches down to give the cat a good scratching under the chin. “Did you miss me?” 

Sothis meows and follows her into the kitchen, hopping onto the counter as Byleth takes the chicken her dad had left to thaw out of the fridge. After seasoning it, Byleth sets it aside to soak up on some flavor as she goes over the few tests that still need to be graded. 

In overall, her students didn’t do too bad. There are spectacular grades, like Lysithea’s and Annette’s, and awful ones, predictably coming from Hilda and Sylvain, _and_ Linhardt. Given how well the others performed, even if they didn’t score one hundred, Byleth knows the fault doesn’t lie in her teaching methods, but rather on their ever present laziness. 

Linhardt could’ve done better, she knows. If this had been an oral test, he would have passed with flying colors, but writing down all of the historic details is too much of a hassle to him. 

Byleth sighs, now done with the tests, and decides to look over the first few letters from the stack. It’s awful that Dorothea has to live with such nasty rumors following her around Garreg Mach, that she’s only a student there because she caught the attention of some older rich guys. She’s one of the few students who has earned a full scholarship, and she’s known Manuela since her days as a diva in the Mittelfrank Opera Company back in Enbarr.

Byleth doesn’t know the full story behind it, only that Manuela became her mentor when Dorothea was still a child and that they have had a close relationship since. To undermine her efforts to get in the Academy is just cruel. 

She writes a reply to Dorothea and to a few others who are having some kind of trouble. Annette mentions she’s seen her missing father working with the security team and expresses a desire to approach him again, though she doesn’t know how, and Petra talks about her difficulty to settle in, having come from the neighboring country of Brigid to study as an exchange student.

Deeming that she’s done enough for the time being, Byleth stands to tend to dinner. Jeralt should be coming home soon, and she wants to have the food ready by then. Rice and chicken with sauteed vegetables is an easy meal to put together and it’s tasty enough. 

Her dad arrives just as the rice has finished cooking and the vegetables are added to the frying pan. He leaves his boots by the door and hangs his vest in the entryway before joining her in the kitchen, stepping around Sothis as the cat circles around him for attention. Jeralt isn’t good with small animals, but he reaches down to scratch her head lightly anyway.

“Smells good.” He ruffles Byleth’s hair as he walks to the fridge, getting himself a small bottle of beer from inside. “How was your day?” 

“Slow,” she says, flipping the chicken over on the pan. “Midterms are over, though, so the rhythm will pick up soon. Yours?” 

“Another day spent looking into these rumors.” Jeralt takes a long drink from his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ve found nothing on camera, but some of the kids Alois spoke to swear they saw someone.”

“Is there a chance it could be a prank?” She asks over her shoulder. Her dad shrugs before he opens the cabinets and takes out a couple of plates. 

“If it is, then it’s in really bad taste.” He starts setting the table, and she brings over the pan of rice. “The lack of proof has seem to have made Seteth less concerned, though. He’s found his way into my office too many times this week to ask for updates. It’s annoying as hell.”

Byleth smiles as she sets the frying pan on the table and they settle down to eat. She understands where Seteth’s concern is coming from, especially after he’s made sure to tell her how much he cares about the safety of the students and the quality of the services offered to them (and she herself wants to see them safe and well), but interrupting the investigation every few hours does more harm than good. 

Jeralt passes her a beer of her own and they clink bottles together in a slight toast before digging into their food. Slow as the past week has been, she’s still looking forward to relaxing a bit this weekend, especially after she’s done replying to all the letters that are still left. 

After she’s done telling him about her new task with the advice box, Jeralt brings up a topic of his own. “There’s this big trip coming up in the Wyvern Moon in our schedule. You heard anything about it?”

Byleth munches slowly as she tries to recall anything. Wyvern Moon? She’s not sure, but... “I think Manuela mentioned some mock battle of sorts to honor traditions?”

“A mock battle?” He lifts his eyebrows in surprise and shakes his head with a huff. “Eh, Garreg Mach hasn’t changed one bit.” 

Before she can question him about it, a loud song interrupts them. Jeralt shoots a withering look in the direction of her bag hanging innocently by the front door. The funky beat and alternative guitar belongs to a song she knows well, and so does he, for she’s set it as her ringtone and keeps it at the loudest volume possible when they’re at home. 

“Hurry up and turn it off,” he grumbles, shoveling some rice into his mouth as she calmly sips her beer.

“You’d do well to give Muse a chance, old man.” Byleth stands up and walks around the small dinner table in their kitchen. “And Supermassive Black Hole is iconic.” 

She doesn’t hear his reply as she approaches her bag and takes her phone from within. Byleth hits one of the buttons on the side to mute the song, though the phone continues to vibrate with the incoming call. Her dad sighs in relief as she looks into the kitchen again. “It’s Seteth.”

Jeralt’s single lifted brow mirrors her feelings perfectly. “Well, don’t leave the man waiting.” 

Byleth turns around as she slides her thumb across the screen, accepting the call. “Yes?”

 _“Professor Eisner?”_ Seteth’s voice is oddly breathless. Panicked, even. Byleth frowns as the worry evident in his voice seeps through the phone and reaches her. 

“Yes, that’s me.” There’s rustling on the other side. Is he running? “Seteth, what’s going on? Did something happen?”

There’s a long pregnant pause filled with distant gasps and huffs before something like _Goddess, please_ reaches her ear. Seteth is always so composed and she can’t imagine what it is that’s left him so agitated and alarmed. 

Finally he replies, his voice cracking and choking around the name, _“Flayn has gone missing!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a bit of dumbassery a.k.a. setleth checking each other out before we delve into the turning point of their relationship :^) this is my gift to y'all.
> 
> Things at uni should slow down after today, so I'll have some extra time to work on this in between all the other stuff that requires my attention. I'm just looking forward to my two week break before the new semester begins ajfhkjhfak this quarantine really messed up our schedule. Even so, y'all better be looking after yourselves and staying at home if you can! Don't forget to support small business during this time, wash your hands, wear your masks, you know the drill. 
> 
> I hope the new chapter was enjoyable, and from here onwards, Seteth and Byleth's interactions should be more frequent (and meaningful, hopefully). Cheers!


	7. searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to read my stuff twice before posting, but I didn't manage that this time jsahjaf please excuse any mistakes, I'll eventually come back to it and fix what I can/rewrite the parts I think are wonky.
> 
> As of the time I'm publishing this, there are 69 comments on this fic. Nice 👌

Garreg Mach Academy is much different at night. For one, it’s colder, nestled high up in the Oghma Mountains as it is. Byleth tugs her jacket closer to her torso as a chill that may have nothing to do with the wind races down her spine. 

The shadows cast by lamps are longer too, making the place seem eerie. Were it in a state of decay, it could easily pass as some haunted, old monastery. Some corners are just too dark, and in light of the sudden disappearance of a student, she strays far away from them. 

The rest of the students are rounded up in the courtyard outside the classrooms as Alois and Gilbert do a head count. Byleth should be helping them with it, but she’s too busy being preoccupied with Flayn and trying to keep Bernadetta from panicking. The girl isn’t particularly close to Flayn, but she’s worried, and the current situation has kicked some of her anxiety into action. 

She gently guides the girl closer to Edelgard as Gilbert and Alois meet once the head count is over with. “All of the students are here,” Gilbert informs as he looks through the attendance lists. “Only Flayn is truly missing.” 

Byleth presses her lips together. What could have driven someone to have targeted Flayn specifically? Were they hoping to use her as leverage to get something out of the Academy? But what? And why? “At least no one else was taken.” Some relief can be found from it. “Is Manuela still here? Her car is in the parking lot.” 

“I haven’t seen her, no.” Alois says with a shrug, his usual joyful face now pinched in concentration and worry. “Let’s take this up to Jeralt.” 

Gilbert instructs other members of the security team to escort the students back to the dormitories. It’s just a little over nine in the night, but most of the students are all dressed up for bed to catch up on some sleep after midterms week. Truly, whoever it is knew exactly when to strike. 

The Academy is silent as the three of them make their way to Jeralt’s office. He already has an energy drink and some cups of coffee he fetched from the teachers’ lounge on his desk when they arrive. “How did this even happen?” He asks no one in particular. The light from the screen illuminates the deep frown on his face as he watches the security footage. “There’s nothing. Not a single trace.” 

“There might be a flaw in our system we weren’t aware of,” Gilbert offers, coming to stand behind her dad. “Or someone from the inside has been messing with the recordings.”

“But who could it be?” Alois asks, but no one has an answer. They can’t start pointing fingers now. “Did someone inform Miss Rhea?” 

Jeralt nods tersely. “She’ll be coming to the Academy soon.” He rolls his neck, an audible pop following the motion. “Alois, Gilbert, gather the rest of the team in the meeting room.” 

His colleagues quickly leave, and Jeralt groans as he pulls a drawer open and starts rummaging through it. “Close the door, kid.” She does as told, watching in silence as he approaches her with something in his hands. A gun. “Take this.” 

“You can’t just give me this, dad, even if you taught me how to use one.” She has no permit to walk around with this, much less wield it at any given time. 

“I know I shouldn’t, but I’m doing it anyway.” He pushes the gun forward, but her hands remain at her sides. “Please, By. I won’t be returning home any time soon and there could be some dangerous creep lurking around Garreg Mach, or even Remire, unseen. I’m not telling you to start shooting at everything that moves, only to carry this around for my own peace of mind. I know you won’t use it unless necessary.” Jeralt nods at the weapon. “And you might need this to keep the students safe.” 

That is the encouragement she needs. She gives him a hard look as she accepts the gun, and fastens the holster to her thigh beneath the uniform skirt. Thankfully, she opted for the pleated skirt today instead of the pencil one. It hides the bulk of the weapon well, and it’s easily reachable. 

“You still have that dagger I gave you, right?” He nods, satisfied, when she confirms it with a jerk of her head. “Good. Carry it with you. Hide it in your boot like I taught you.” 

They step out into the hallway, and he plants a firm hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t remember seeing him this serious in her life, not since the day the doctor told them the news about her mother’s condition. “Stay safe. If you can, get Manuela or one of the teachers to spend the night with you. Try not to be alone.” 

Byleth nods numbly as he walks away to the meeting room. She thinks of Manuela’s car in the parking lot, her hand trembling by her side, near the hidden pocket where her phone is tucked in. She’s too afraid of calling and getting no answer, but she does it anyway. 

It dials until it can no more and reaches voicemail. Byleth presses the phone to her forehead and sends a quick prayer to the skies. It’s awful to pray only when it’s convenient, but she doesn’t know what else to do. 

“She would have never left the monastery of her own volition. Why is there not a trace of her to be found?!”

Byleth turns to the closed door of Seteth’s office, hears the muffled noises coming from within. She takes a tentative step towards it, stops, and finally closes the distance, knocking quietly before cracking the door open. Isaac allows her entrance with a grave nod of his head, and she closes the door behind her when she’s inside. 

The three brothers are here. Michael is deep in concentration, leaning against the sturdy table, a hand cradling his chin as he stares unseeingly at his feet. Isaac’s timid expression is replaced by a somberness that is unlike him, lips pressed together in a thin line. 

Seteth is the worst by far. It’s been over an hour since he’s called, though he probably has been searching for longer than that, and already he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Energy seems to have been drained from him along with the color of his face, deep shadows settling beneath his eyes now laden with mindless worry. 

The thought has no place inside her head, especially in a time like this, but she can’t help but notice the different levels of worry they feel towards their little sister. Is Seteth the one closer to her perhaps?

He’s wringing his hands as she approaches, head now bowed low. Byleth kneels in front of him and places a hand above his own, ceasing their restless moving. His eyes snap to her face like he’s noticing her presence for the first time.

“I will find her, Seteth. I swear it.” She means it, a wave of protectiveness surging up within her for her dear student and her closest friend. 

Seteth looks deeply pained, and it hurts to see him like this. They may not be close and he may not like her, but she’s never wished any harm upon him. To see him like this, a husk of his usual self now brought to his knees by dread, makes her heart lurch unpleasantly inside her. 

“That is all I can ask. Please, lend me your aid!” His hand grips her own firmly, and she resolves to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

The weekend comes and goes, and the worry starts pilling high as no progress is made. As if Manuela not answering her calls isn’t enough, finding her purse tossed behind one of the neatly trimmed hedges that saturday evening sends a boulder dropping down Byleth’s stomach. Dread coils tight and cold in her chest as she gathers the many lipsticks her friend owns, their tubs caked with dirt from the garden. Her phone lies inside, displaying the fifteen missed calls from Byleth herself. 

Found in the courtyard in front of the classrooms and hidden between the hedge and the wall of the faculty building, the purse gives Byleth no other leads or clues. Manuela had come this way before whoever took Flayn decided to take her too. 

At this point, Byleth thinks it’s necessary to inform Dorothea of Manuela’s disappearance. She doesn’t want to spread further panic among the student body, but Dorothea has the right to know. She joins Byleth in searching for the missing teacher and student. Not only her, but the whole choir and theatre clubs join efforts to find their coach, too. 

The history and swim clubs join the search as well out of solidarity and worry for their teammate. Soon, most of the student body is spending their free time looking for clues. Byleth separates them in groups and leaves Edelgard, Claude and Dimitri in charge of coordinating the search, and goes solo most of the time.

Rhea makes a few appearances and helps as much as she can, claiming that she sees Flayn like family and that she worries for each member of the faculty. The Nabatea brothers, sans Seteth, aid in the searches and investigation, often taking part in meetings of the security team along with Byleth. 

Each day when she arrives, Seteth is already in his office, and when she’s ready to call it a night, he’s still there. Byleth doesn’t think he’s leaving his office, much less the Academy, at all. 

When the week begins again and two of the teachers are unable to attend, the rest of the faculty scrambles to fill in the gaps. With the help of Lysithea and the other members of the math club, they manage to concoct some activities to keep the students busy and studying in Seteth’s absence. Hanneman and Byleth team up to assign them articles to read and essays to write for the biology classes, and stock up on documentaries that could be helpful. 

She asks some of the students what they think, when and where they last saw Manuela and Flayn. Some of them give her insightful theories, like the possibility that Flayn’s naiveté may have been a factor in her disappearance; others, not so much. If Byleth happens to “accidentally” comment about Sylvain’s crazy theory near Ingrid that Flayn eloped so she will chew his ass off later on, well…

It’s Thursday when the faculty is doing its now usual meeting in the morning before classes when Shamir makes an observation. “Has anyone seen Jeritza?” 

Everyone glances around as if he could be hiding somewhere, behind a potted flower or the door, like a kid waiting to play a prank on their parents. Truth is, now that Shamir has mentioned it, Byleth realizes she has yet to see him this week. 

“Damn it, I was supposed to spar with him on Tuesday.” Catherine pinches the bridge of her nose. “It completely slipped my mind.”

“I do not think he is very angry with you considering he has not shown his face around here,” Michael comments, lips tugged down in displeasure. “I have not seen him since last Friday when he was aiding me and Professor Eisner with the students during the last day of midterms.”

Silence follows his statement as the words slowly sink in. “Do you think...” Hanneman begins, and even though he never finishes voicing his thoughts, everyone understands the implications.

_Do you think he is the one behind the kidnappings?_

“We can’t rule it out,” Byleth says at last. They can’t rule anything out, except for the absurd idea that Flayn eloped. “Everyone's a suspect at this point. Jeritza not being here makes him more suspicious than anyone else.” 

From her talks with staff and students, many people she’s familiar with were brought up as suspects. From Hanneman to Gilbert and Alois, from Tomas to her own father. Jeritza was mentioned once by the security guard who dubs himself as the Gatekeeper, the same one who called her professor and her dad captain the first time they showed up in Garreg Mach, bringing attention to how often he came and went from the Academy during the day. Someone said they saw Manuela walking down the hallway in a terrible hurry, and it was the only thing said about her friend. 

Isaac nods solemnly in agreement. “Mac and I will relay it to Mr. Eisner. Please, everyone, let us continue the search.” 

As the brothers leave the teachers’ lounge, Hanneman gracelessly plops down on the nearest chair. He and Manuela may argue on the daily, but they still care for each other, even if they don’t show it often. They have been teaching at the Academy longer than any of them, after all. 

No one says anything for the longest time. Catherine continues to pace while Shamir leans against the table with crossed arms. Byleth herself might start pacing too from how restless and sick with worry she is. 

“Jeritza has a locker in the gym.” Catherine says eventually, bringing their attention to her. “Think we should bust it open and look inside?”

“Ideally, we should not, but it might give us something to work with.” Hanneman strokes his mustache and nods to himself.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Can you open it, Shamir?” 

Shamir’s answer comes with a dry look. “What do I look like? The leader of a band of thieves?” 

Catherine laughs and cracks her knuckles. “Well then, nothing a crowbar can’t fix.” 

“Wait.” Byleth cuts in. “We can’t just break it open. If we’re wrong and he finds out, we’ll be in deep trouble.”

“What do you have in mind?” Shamir asks, dropping her hands to the tabletop.

“I know someone. We’ll meet in the locker room in ten.” 

* * *

Catherine squints at the adjutant Byleth brought along, pursing her lips as the kid fiddles with the bobby pin in his hand. “Wait a minute, I know you. You’re Cristophe’s younger brother, aren’t you?” 

“Y-Yes! That’s m-me.” Ashe scrunches up his shoulders and looks at Byleth helplessly. She places a hand on his back and gives it a slight push.

“Go on. Catherine won’t say anything to your dad.” She shoots the woman in question a warning look, to which Catherine replies by raising her hands in surrender. “Besides, you’re doing this to help us find Flayn and Manuela.” 

Uncertainly, he nods and approaches the locker, pulling the two ends slightly apart before inserting them in the lock. Byleth recalls what he had shared with her once, about a difficult childhood after his parents’ passing and turning to unhonorable means to be able to feed his siblings. It had been a stroke of luck that he ran into Lonato and the man had been kind enough to take him and his siblings into his home, raising them alongside the son he already had. 

Ashe isn’t proud of the things he had to do, but his lockpicking skills are essential to them now. The door of the locker is open within seconds, and he steps away from it with his head ducked low.

“Thank you, Ashe.” She smiles at him, patting his head gently. He risks a look at her from under his hair and manages a smile, cheeks flushed. “Return to class, yeah? I don’t want you to miss too much of Professor Michael’s lecture.” 

He doesn’t need further prompting to leave, tossing the bobby pin into the trash can on his way out. As soon as the door swings shut, Catherine is opening the locker and rummaging inside. There’s not much to be found; just a track jacket and a couple of books.

“Is his cell phone in there?” Hanneman asks as Catherine steps away to let Shamir look through the locker. “His wallet, perhaps? Something?” 

“Nothing.” Shamir takes the books to flip through them. Their contents tell nothing substantial to their cause, just tales from the Saints and the Goddess. “As empty as his personality.” 

Catherine snorts and pulls the jacket from within the locker. “There has to be something in here.” As she shakes the jacket and pulls at the pockets, a crumpled piece of paper flutters to the ground. 

Byleth sweeps low to grab it as it lands on the tiled floor, and the others crowd around her to catch a glimpse of it. It’s a photograph, old and yellowed and slightly torn at the edges, depicting a young girl with chubby cheeks and pale hair that curls inwards to her chin. Her light eyes are creased from the gentle smile that tugs at her lips. 

Hanneman fixes his monocle and gently plucks the picture from Byleth’s hand to get a closer look. “Isn’t this Mercedes Martritz?” 

“Mercedes?” Catherine takes the picture from him. “Shit, it really is her.”

“Do you think she could be another target?” Byleth asks, fear gripping her throat once more.

“We can’t rule it out,” Shamir repeats her earlier words and pockets the photograph. “Let’s take this to Jeralt and Miss Rhea. We can discuss if we should bring this up to Mercedes or not.” 

* * *

They don’t. It can cause too much panic, Rhea says, and in the end they settle for warning the security team to keep an eye out on the girl. The teachers remind the students all the time to never walk around alone, especially at night. Everyone continues to look. 

The week comes and goes, and nothing is found. No leads in the girls’ locker room, no clue left in the classrooms or by the pool. No one can tell where Flayn was when the culprit abducted her, and the same can be said for Manuela. Where was she going? What did she see?

Why were they taken? If it had been to simply have some leverage to use against the Academy, they would have spoken by now. Cases where people are kidnapped to get money out of an institution aren’t rare. 

Byleth talks with Isaac and Michael on most days and asks if they know anything about their little sister that would make her a target for anyone. Her dad doesn’t think they picked anyone at random, and she shares in his belief that Flayn specifically was chosen. Manuela happened to be a casualty, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe she even tried to stop them. 

The only conclusion she gets out of these conversations with the brothers is that they are terrible liars who are hiding something. Isaac clearly spends too much time choosing the right words when asked, and Michael is quick to cut the conversation short and storm off away from her vicinity. 

So there is something about Flayn that makes her more special compared to the other students in light of this situation, but Byleth doesn’t know what, and asking Seteth about this is out of the question. He’s withdrawing more and more into himself with each day that passes, and she’s barely even seen him since that first Friday night when she joined the brothers in his office. 

The dining hall is empty at this time of the day. The students are busy with some of their clubs; Dorothea has stepped up to fill in Manuela’s place, and Catherine has taken Jeritza’s role as fencing instructor. Michael and Isaac have gone to meet with an actual detective to look into this, and Byleth and some members of the faculty are having a late lunch after hours of searching. 

Shamir sips from her cup of coffee; it’s her fourth today and she’s far from looking jittery. “Any new theories to share?” 

Byleth shakes her head; as much as she knows that Isaac and Michael are potentially hiding something, she has no idea what it could be. Sharing her suspicions with them without anything to back them up is stupid. 

Similarly to the languages teacher, Hanneman takes a sip of his tea. “My theory is that they are after her blood.” 

That makes Byleth pause, the apple just halfway to her mouth. “Her blood?”

Shamir seems as incredulous as she feels. “What, are you saying she’s got some O- blood in her and they were so desperate for a transfusion that they kidnapped her?” 

“What I am saying, and what I imagine, is that she might have significant traces of a Crest in her blood.” Hanneman’s eyes light up in an all too familiar way, and Byleth groans internally. “Why, imagine the scientific breakthrough if someone were discovered to have either a minor or major Crest-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Shamir lifts a hand to silence him, unamused at the direction his thoughts led him. “Crests are irrelevant in all aspects of life these days, and no respectful ‘Crest scholar’ would kidnap someone for the sake of a research.” Silence follows her words. “Isn’t that right, Hanneman?” 

“Of course! Are you trying to imply something?” Shamir levels him with a dry look. “Shame on you, Shamir!”

“Even if that were the case, what would they do with it? Like Shamir said, Crests aren’t useful anymore.” Byleth taps her chin. “Most importantly, how would they even know?”

While it’s true that there are specific blood tests to know if a person has traces of a certain Crest in their blood, these are too expensive, and the knowledge won’t change anything about the person’s reality. Crests lost their importance to society over time, even if some family names remain the same, and Fódlan itself isn’t the same as it was a thousand years ago. Whether you have a minor Crest of Lamine or a major Crest of Fraldarius or none at all, it won’t change your worth or importance. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this in public.” Shamir stands up and gathers her few dishes. “You can rest for a while, Byleth. Come on, Hanneman.” 

Alone in the dining hall, Byleth gives up on eating her apple and decides to save it for later. She hasn’t been getting much rest these past days, if any. If it weren’t for Sothis waiting for her at home every day, Byleth would have spent the nights in Garreg Mach with her dad.

Speaking of him, it’s likely that he skipped lunch again. She goes over to the open display refrigerator that stays by the counter and picks some choices leftover from lunch; not as fresh, but just as good and filling. Byleth leaves for the faculty building with enough food to feed a small family, anticipating that Gilbert and Alois will be in Jeralt’s office with him.

Her prediction turns to be correct when she finds them occupying the small sitting area of the room, exhaustion in all of their faces. The room heavily smells of caffeine, their mugs of coffee just within their reach. She lifts the bags with a wry smile. “I brought food.”

“Oh! You’re an angel, Byleth!” Alois praises, sitting up to accept the paper bag she gives him.

“I second that, kid. Just like your mother.” Warmth blooms in her chest at her father’s words, and she gives the third bag to Gilbert. “Any luck?”

“None yet.” She fiddles with the last bag of food, worry creasing her brow slightly. “You?” Jeralt shakes his head, and she swallows against the force that threatens to close up her throat. 

Byleth doesn’t linger, leaving them to eat and rest after another long night and day of tireless work. After closing the door with a soft click, she turns to the other door across the hallway. She hasn’t seen Seteth in the dining hall in a long time, and while his brothers task themselves with bringing him some food, they have been absent all day. She doubts Seteth has gone to the dining hall for a snack during the time she was scouring the Academy’s grounds. 

When he doesn’t respond to the knock on the door, she opens it an inch to test his reaction. With no protest coming her way, Byleth pushes into the room and swiftly closes the door behind her, an act done out of respect for the privacy he values in his daily life, more so in times like this. 

She had expected the office to be dark, but that isn’t so. Even with the sunlight streaming through the large window behind him, though, there’s a heavy somberness in the room. He doesn’t comment on her entrance, caught in an unresponsive state as he stares blankly at his desk. The shadows under his eyes are so deep they resemble bruises. He seems thinner, his face gaunt, his shoulders smaller as he hunches into himself. 

Seteth seems fragile, breakable, and that concept when applied to him is so strange and foreign. He’s always looked strong and steady, fierce in a way she can’t quite describe. 

Byleth opens the paper bag and sets the food in front of him. A tuna sandwich that she thought he would like, an orange, a bottle of four-spice iced tea; she remembers Flayn mentioned it is one of his favorite blends. “Seteth.” She waits for him to react, to lift his head in a terribly slow pace. “Please, eat something.”

“I am not hungry.” He sounds like a petulant child as he averts his gaze. She fights the urge to sigh.

“Seteth-”

“I said I am _not hungry!”_

Byleth slams her hands on the tabletop, the resounding smack making Seteth snap his mouth shut. Any other day and she would draw pleasure from how she’s surprised him, how his eyes widen in shock and he leans back and away from her as she leans into his space in return, her face contorting with concern and exasperation. Byleth is tired - so, so tired and _so worried_ for two people she cherishes that are nowhere to be found. Everyone is trying so hard and-

“You will eat.” She enunciates slowly, leaning further into his personal space. “Or so the Goddess help me, I will force feed you myself. Do you understand?”

He doesn’t nod, but she takes the bobbing of his throat as a positive response. She points at the sandwich and straightens up, watching as he unwraps the parchment paper from around it and takes a small bite. Once his tongue registers the taste, he might realize how hungry he actually is. 

Byleth runs a hand through her hair and sits down on the chair behind her. No, she nearly collapses, the exhaustion she’s been trying to keep at bay quickly catching up with her. She glares at nothing, trying to will away the sudden wave of anger and irritation that rose up inside her while he slowly eats his food, the baguette of the sandwich no longer crunching with each bite. She closes her eyes for a full minute and takes deep breaths. 

“I know you’re worried,” she starts quietly, still not looking at him, but she can feel his eyes on her. “We all are. Still, it doesn’t hold a candle to what you feel. I understand that, but you also need to understand that running yourself haggard will do no one no good. Our hands are full. If you were to get sick or pass out or- well, what will happen when we find Flayn and you’re not in good conditions to give her the care she needs?”

That should do the trick. If he won't do it for himself, then for Flayn he will. Satisfied that he has eaten half the sandwich, Byleth stands with a heavy sigh and walks to the door, leaving without further words. 

* * *

Byleth has never been good with dealing with her feelings.

When her mother passed away, her response to the swathe of grief that overwhelmed her was to lock her emotions away to the point where she was unfazed by any and everything around her. Grieving himself, her dad didn't know how to help her. She only learned how to deal with her bottled up feelings when she started taking those many martial classes in her youth. Punching something is a great way to work out some tension.

Bottling feelings up is never good, she remembers a few of her teachers saying, and she had led a pretty uneventful life since then that such advice was momentarily forgotten. It springs forth now in light of an explosive reaction, the emotions inside her swirling into a dangerous cocktail that nearly exploded in Seteth's face.

She is worried for Flayn and Manuela. She is scared for what the future holds, what they will find, and what they won't. To avoid another outburst like that, Byleth deals with her feelings the best way she's learned how.

Balthus, Raphael and Caspar join her in the ring, bandages around their knuckles and boxing gloves nearby. Yuri and Felix meet her with swords in hand, ending in clashes of different swordsmanship displays. Sometimes, Dimitri will invite her to a spar, and she will try to knock the training staff from his hands for the better part of an hour. He meets her vicious strikes without a single grunt, his concentration and steadiness belying a strength that is embedded in his bones. 

She’s taken to archery as a means to cool down after the spars. Byleth isn’t that good, but Ashe is patient and Cyril has good advice to give, what with his mom being the coach of the Archery Club and all. Sometimes, Bernadetta lingers in the sidelines, torn between joining them or keeping to herself. 

Right now, she’s alone, the kids having left a while ago due to the curfew. Shamir escorted Ashe and Bernadetta to their rooms, and then went home with Cyril. Like Flayn, he’s one of the few students who aren’t required to live in Garreg Mach for being the relative of a faculty member. 

Though Byleth likes to believe that the three of them could fight off anyone stupid enough to invade their houses, she decided to honor her father’s request and proposed that she, Catherine and Shamir take turns sleeping in each other’s house for added security. Catherine would’ve been happier with the sleepovers under better circumstances, but she still manages to lighten the mood just enough for them. Cyril keeps quiet wherever he is, his portable video game always by his side, but he enjoys playing with Sothis, Byleth taking her cat wherever she goes.

She might forfeit it tonight, though. Perhaps a night spent alone in her bed will actually render some restful sleep, though she doubts it. Still, it’s worth a shot, she decides, and heads to her father’s office to gather her things and bid him goodbye. 

Before she can walk away altogether, the light coming from underneath Seteth’s door gives her pause. It’s nearly midnight and his brothers have left long ago. She might have been right when she suspected that he isn’t going home at all. Seems like he didn’t heed her advice, in the end. Resigning herself, Byleth knocks on the door and enters the office before he can acknowledge the knocks.

Seteth is in the same place as she last saw him a few days ago, sitting behind his desk like he’s not moved a muscle since. Given her earlier observations, that just might be the case. “Get up. I’m taking you home.” 

Like before, it’s only when she addresses him that he acknowledges her presence. “What?”

“You heard me. Get up. Where’s your stuff?” He carries around a messenger bag to and from classes, a black leather one that must be as expensive as it looks. Byleth finds it hanging behind his door and pulls it from the hanger. “Is everything here?” Patting the contents, she can feel the outline of a wallet, a small pencil case, among other things. His phone is on the desk within his reach, as expected, in case someone calls him with updates.

He finally stands up, but doesn’t make a move to step away from the desk. “I cannot leave. What if Flayn-”

“ _When_ Flayn is found, you’ll be the first to know and I’ll drive you here myself if needed,” she interrupts swiftly, hoisting the bag on her other shoulder. “You really didn’t hear a damn thing I said last time, did you? How can you look after Flayn when she’s found if you’re sick yourself? It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re not getting any sleep. I bet you’re not even moving to the couch for your short naps.”

Seteth closes his eyes and inhales deeply, flexing his fingers by his side. Just to tick him off further, Byleth starts tapping her foot on the ground, until his eyebrow twitches and he exhales harshly. She smiles triumphantly to herself when he moves away from his desk, his usually prim dress shirt now untucked and loose. 

She remembers distinctly well how it used to hug his shoulders and pecs. “You haven’t been eating either, huh?” 

He looks down at himself, running his palms over the rumpled fabric and tugging at his shirt as if he’s just noticed his current state. “You noticed?”

Heat crawls up her neck. Of course she’s noticed; his personality may sometimes equate to the feeling of sucking on a lemon wedge, but his looks are more pleasant than that. “I have eyes,” she says simply and motions to the door with a flourish.

Seteth doesn’t fight her any longer, silently shadowing her steps as she guides them to the parking lot. Byleth casts another glance to Manuela’s car, its cherry red color impossible to miss, always polished despite her tendency to being messy. She unlocks the jeep and places their bags on the backseat as Seteth slips into the passenger seat and straps the seatbelt in. 

Byleth turns the key in the ignition, and a song starts blaring from the speakers when the car powers up. “By the Goddess!” If Seteth looked exhausted before, now he looks wide awake as he scrambles for the volume button on the console. “What was that?”

“Supermassive Black Hole,” she supplies dutifully, shifting the car into reverse to back out of her parking spot. “I figured it wouldn’t be to your liking. What do you like to listen to? I can change to another playlist, no problem.”

Seteth sighs quietly and leans back on his seat. “This is fine now that it is not about to damage my hearing forever.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” Byleth stops the car at the gates. Since the kidnapping, the security is now checking the IDs and car plates of anyone who comes and goes for precaution. She continues down the road once she’s given the okay. “We’re stopping for dinner too. Do you fancy any place in particular?” 

“None, Professor Eisner.” He sounds exasperated, or just really tired. She doesn’t look over to check and drives them to a small burger place downtown, where she’d intended to take him after shopping for Flayn’s birthday party.

Someone needs to keep an eye on him, and it will be her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part of this chapter is Byleth going "I know a guy" and then she shows up in the locker room with Ashe in tow. He's always been my favorite student from the start, and I'm going through a Phase where he's just... Everything to me right now hJHSAFFSAK oh, I also like the part where she kind of blows up on Seteth. Angry Byleth is really sexy if you ask me; I'm sure Seteth would agree.
> 
> I've been writing like crazy to participate in Yuriashe Week this September, and it's actually been flowing pretty well! (Also, might I add, I will add some slight yuriashe hints in here, as I will with other ships in the future, but I won't be trying to shove them down your throat, so don't worry! The focus is still on these two idiots!)
> 
> At some point in these past two weeks of my break, I picked this fic back up and managed to write a considerable chunk of the story. Now I'm stuck on a part because I can't find a pretty enough fish that is to be mentioned only ONCE, but when I do, the writing will resume smoothly. Sometimes I care a lot about small details, I don't know if you can tell.
> 
> I hope you're all well and safe! See ya 🌸


	8. lost and found

Byleth didn’t think this would become a daily activity and yet, here she is, once again having dinner with Seteth. Only this time, it’s in a “healthier” restaurant of his choice. 

It’s only her stubbornness and nagging that gets him to leave the office, eat, and actually sleep in his bed. Or maybe not. She’s not there to see for certain that he’s actually sleeping and not spacing out, but at least he’s home and not in the Academy.

They don't always grab dinner together outside Garreg Mach. Sometimes, Byleth will coerce him into joining them for lunch, or she will invite him for some tea in the afternoons, or sometimes they eat in the dining hall before leaving for the night. Her driving him home has become a daily occurrence too.

Being constantly spotted together ensures that rumors about them start circling in the rumor mill again, students gossiping and murmuring to one another when she walks past, as if she won’t overhear. But Byleth didn’t care for them before, and she cares even less now that them hanging together is actually helping him in some way.

His appearance has been better lately, even if he’s still as distracted and struck by dread as he was on that one Friday. His outfits are cleaner and freshly ironed, the shirts fit him better, some color has returned to his cheeks that aren't as sunken in anymore. Even the shadows under his eyes have lightened some.

Seteth still isn't fit for teaching, but he's been putting some effort into making a lesson plan for the following week and some activities for the students. They can't rely on the Math Club forever, and he needs to step forth and act as a responsible teacher, especially when he would often comment on her unsuitability for the role. She’s been doing spectacularly in comparison, but that’s just her petty side rising forth to make the observation. 

Of course, Byleth doesn’t say that aloud, nor does she comment on how Isaac and Michael are fully capable of functioning as both teachers and searching parties in light of their little sister going missing, while Seteth acts like he’s lost a limb or a part of himself. 

The Nabatea family holds a lot of secrets from what she’s noticed, from mundane things such as Flayn’s age as to why the girl could have been kidnapped in the first place. Whatever it is, they’re not going to reveal it even if it will make locating her and Manuela easier, so Byleth resolves to work in the dark. 

She’s waiting outside the restaurant as Seteth pays the bill per his request. Byleth tried to split it, but he insisted on it after she paid the first couple of nights, and besides, it makes up for her having to drive him home every night, or so he says. She doesn’t know why he doesn’t just follow his brothers to the car in the evenings instead of staying holed up in his office until she shows up to drag his ass home. Byleth doubts he actually enjoys spending time with her, and yet he’s in the passenger seat of her car every night. Seteth doesn’t even complain about her music choices anymore. 

The little bell above the door jingles as Seteth makes his exit, and she turns towards the car parked just down the block. Byleth hopes Catherine will suggest ordering pizza tonight again or that Shamir will prepare her killer spaghetti recipe, because a single serving of grilled fish with a side of bland steamed vegetables won’t keep her full for too long.

“How satisfying was the meal to you?” She asks out of curiosity, the winter jacket of her uniform draped over her shoulders to keep the night chill at bay.

“Plenty. Much more satisfying than that greasy thing you fed me the first time and dared call food.” Byleth learned the hard way that Seteth isn’t one for burgers or fries or chicken nuggets. Finding something in that little burger place that would suit his likings was hell, but at least she got to eat the burger she ordered him, too. 

“You talk as if you’re going to get a clogged artery from eating a single burger.” Byleth turns her gaze heavenwards, an action not born out of exasperation. It is simply a lovely night. Lovely enough that she can almost pretend everything is right and no one has gone missing. “You’re like- thirty and in a good enough shape for peak performance. One burger won’t ruin your health or make you fat.” 

Seteth looks down at her, troubled. “Thirty? I would like to believe I seem to be twenty five.” 

“Yeah, no, sorry. You look young, but not that young.” She pats his arm gently and parts from his side to walk to the driver’s seat. “Your skincare routine is great, though, so keep it up.” 

As he buckles his seatbelt, Seteth seems to be having an internal crisis. Oh, has no one ever told him that he doesn’t look as young as he thinks? Damn, talk about putting her foot in her mouth. 

To distract herself from the blunder and him from his thoughts, Byleth turns on the radio. He’s come to enjoy some of the songs from her driving playlists, sometimes tapping his finger on his thigh to the beat of the ones he’s more familiar with or the ones he likes the most. He still makes a face whenever Supermassive Black Hole comes on, though, but otherwise doesn’t mind other Muse songs.

The drive to his place is as silent as it usually is. Most their meals are had in relative quiet, speaking only when necessary, and her quiet nature rejoices in it. The few topics of conversation range from the search to other students to other matters of the Academy, circling back to Flayn shortly after. Seteth keeps the talk professional enough and doesn’t reveal anything about himself or his siblings. 

Byleth doesn’t want to know all details of his whole life or the number of his credit card (which, to be honest, she doubts he even has one; Seteth acts like those old people who would rather carry cash everywhere), but if he were to share with her a hobby or two, keeping him distracted during these times would be much easier. 

Their house lies a little ways out of Remire, down a gravel road surrounded by the woods in the outskirts of the town. The first time he’d directed her this way, Byleth had been ready to fight him for her career should he try to kick her out of the faculty through less than honorable means, back when they’d gone shopping for Flayn’s birthday party, but all she found at the end was a large house built in a clearing. To this day, the modern architecture leaves her awed, from the large windows occupying the entire front of the three-story building to the texture and wood detail applied to the outside of the cantilever second floor. The soft lightning of the inside makes it seem like the house is glowing whenever she stops the car by the door. 

Isaac is waiting outside for their arrival, lips curled in a pleasant little smile and hands folded behind his back. “Welcome home, Seteth.” He leans sideways to look behind his brother whilst Seteth is getting out of the car. “Hello to you, Professor Eisner. Would you like to come inside and join us for some tea?”

“Thank you, Professor Isaac,” she says over the humming of the engine, “but I have to meet with Catherine and Shamir soon.” 

Seteth pauses in shutting the door. “Catherine and Shamir?” 

“My dad asked me to not spend the nights by myself while he’s staying in the Academy.”

“Ah, very prudent.” Isaac nods sagely. “Perhaps next time, then? We would love to have you for tea, or even dinner. Would we not, Seteth?” 

Their gazes meet and another silent conversation passes between both brothers. At this point, Byleth is wondering if they are actually capable of telepathy, or if it’s just a skill all siblings have, having grown up together and knowing one another all their lives. 

“Yes,” Seteth replies at length and finally shuts the door. “We would love to.” 

Byleth can’t sense that she’s welcomed in their house from him, but Isaac’s enthusiasm makes up for Seteth’s reluctance. “How about when we find Flayn so we can all celebrate together?”

“What a wonderful idea, professor.” Isaac claps his hand and gives her a wider smile. “We will be waiting for you.” 

She returns his smile with one of her own and bids them both a good night before circling around to go back the way she came. Seteth appears vexed as she drives past, but Isaac cheerfully waves until she leaves their line of sight. 

* * *

“Professor Eisner?” 

Byleth had come to the greenhouse to relax, or try to, after another fruitless round of searching. Two weeks have gone by, and she’s starting to fear the worst. Though no one has stopped looking through Garreg Mach high and low, the same feeling of dread is uncomfortably settling in the pit of everyone’s stomachs like a boulder. 

She looks up from the flowers she’d been observing, ones Dedue once said are native from Duscur. A senior man dressed in dirty overalls hovers close, fidgeting in place and wringing his hands, his wrinkled face speckled with dirt and contorted in a frown. One of the gardeners, she guesses, given the few tools poking out of the pocket of his sturdy apron. 

“Yes? I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name.” 

“It’s Jasper, professor.” His fingers unlink so he can rummage through the pocket of his overalls. “I’m sorry to disturb ya, but I found this when I was rakin’ the gardens earlier.” 

Byleth leans forward as he pulls his hand out and brings it closer to her, the seconds seeming to stretch infinitely as his fingers uncurl to reveal the item. Small and caked in mud from the recent rains, Byleth has to pick it up to better inspect it, rubbing her nail along the edge to chip away some of the dirt that clings to it.

It’s a hairpin made of gold, and so painfully familiar that it makes her breath catch. “Where did you find this?”

“Near the common room,” he responds promptly. “Just inside the closed gate.” 

With a quick thanks, Byleth leaves the greenhouse in a flurry of her black skirt, walking as fast as her feet can take her to the mentioned location, cutting a shortcut through the dining hall and weaving between the students that linger after lunch. 

The common room had been, long ago, a knight’s hall when Garreg Mach was still a monastery. It’s been repurposed and refurbished since then with bean bags, board games and other kinds of recreational activities for the students to make use of during their free days. It’s near her favorite gazebo for tea, the one they decorated with balloons for Flayn’s birthday party.

Before, she had noticed a gate placed in the stretch of space between the common room and the stables, always closed with chains and locks to keep students and unauthorized personnel out of there. Byleth never thought much about it and just dismissed it as one of the Academy’s eccentricities, but not today. She has no idea of what lies in that courtyard that requires the gate to be locked all the time, but she’s about to find out, whether she has an authorization for it or not. 

The chain and lock are gone, presumably taken by the gardener when he’d come earlier to tend to the garden. Rising on her toes, Byleth looks over the gate at the courtyard and fumbles with the knob to get it to open. She sees many closed doors and a couple windows from here, but nothing stands out or appears suspicious from this distance.

“What are you doing, teach?” 

Byleth lowers her heels down again and turns to look at Claude, accompanied by a fair number of students he’s acquaintances with. Dimitri and Edelgard stand by his side, their concerned and curious expressions mirrored in the faces of their peers. They must have followed her once she was spotted storming through the dining hall. 

“One of the gardeners found Flayn’s hairpin just past this gate,” she explains with a wave of her hand. 

The students share cautious, hopeful gazes with one another. Dimitri sizes up the old gate with a critical gaze as Byleth returns to fumbling with the knob, rusted and old and stuck in place. Damnit, how does the gardener get it to open?

“Allow me, professor.” She steps away to let him take her place. Metal screeches horribly as he forces the knob to move, then shoves the gate open in a wide arc with a forceful push of his shoulder against it. Dimitri straightens up and rolls his shoulder, massaging it with his opposite hand, but his face doesn’t show any signs of pain. She’d seen first hand how strong he is, but hadn’t thought it would be this much. 

Feeling a bit bewildered at the display, Byleth offers him a grateful nod and steps into the courtyard. “Stay here.” 

“We cannot let you go alone, my teacher.” Edelgard takes a step forward, and so do the other students, like they’re a flock that moves in unison. “Flayn is our classmate and we want to help.” 

Byleth looks at the group crowding the passageway, shoulders set in determination and brows pinched in stubbornness. Even Hilda is here, the one who never wants to exert herself, willing to enter some strange part of the Academy to search for an acquaintance. Dorothea stands anxiously just behind Edelgard; Byleth can tell with a single look at her face that she won’t take no for an answer. 

These people... If only they showed as much interest for their lectures as they do now.

“Stay close and be careful,” she instructs, stepping aside to let them into the garden. Raphael is quick to wrestle the gate back into place, and Byleth takes the lead, inspecting each door to pick one to look through first. The doorknob on one of the doors at the end of the courtyard is a little crooked, like it was hastily put back in place after having fallen. If she had to guess, she’d say the captor kicked the door open, seeing as both their hands were occupied with Flayn and Manuela. 

Byleth thinks of the gun that’s been strapped to her thigh for two weeks and resolves to not reveal it yet as she pushes the door open with a creak. 

It reveals a long hallway lined with more doors on both sides. Flicking the switch on the stone wall illuminates it with yellow light from the old bulbs in the ceiling, one of them flickering ominously. It doesn’t feel like it, but she thinks of survival horror games. Byleth half expects a monster to emerge from one of the doors or to be waiting for them at the end of the hallway. 

“Split up in pairs to search through the doors. If you find anything, call me. Stay vigilant.” 

The students scatter along the hallway, looking into empty rooms and relaying their findings. Weapons, tons of them, from swords to lances to axes to bows, of all shapes and sizes and kinds. They must date back from centuries ago, when Garreg Mach still employed people as the Knights of Seiros, when the Academy was meant to teach noble kids how to fight in wars and other conflicts.

Later, once all of this is done and over with and the dust has settled, Byleth would love nothing more than to calmly look through the weapons and admire them, but now she needs to focus.

Dorothea sticks close to Byleth. Every room that turns out to be empty draws a small noise of dismay from her. Though the girl masks it well beneath layers of makeup and all the acting skills she’s acquired over the years, Byleth can see how harried she’s been over the disappearance of her mentor and friend. Manuela is dear to all the members of the Choir and Theatre Clubs, and Byleth has seen first hand how her absence is affecting the students. 

She can only hope that this search will lead to good results. This area of the Academy might as well be the only area no one had looked through before due to being locked. If nothing of importance can be found here, then she fears their chances of finding anything outside Garreg Mach grounds are slim. 

A yelp and a crash make her jump whilst she’s peering into an old wardrobe. “P-Professor Byleth!” Ashe’s panicked tone comes from the end of the hallway, prompting Byleth to bolt out of the room with Dorothea in tow. 

Students emerge from the rooms they’d been inspecting, poking their heads into the hallway to watch the commotion. “What’re we gonna do? Is she okay? Oh Goddess, she’s not dead, is she?” Caspar’s alarmed voice seeps out of the room, making Byleth quicken her steps even further to reach them faster. Other students stream into the hallway to follow her and Dorothea at a brisk pace.

Byleth halts to a stop just outside the room, grabbing onto the door jamb to steady herself and look into it. Shelves are collapsed in the back, and a few boxes are turned over, various glittering trinkets scattered all around, mingled with broken pieces of furniture and books with torn yellowed pages.

Caspar’s usual brashness has been replaced by an uncharacteristic helpless look, and Ashe’s soft-spoken sweetness is dampened by concern. Beyond them, a shape lies on the dusty carpeted ground, the body of a woman lying on her stomach.

“Professor Manuela!” Dorothea pushes past Byleth and into the room, squeezing her way between both boys in kneeling by her mentor and friend’s side. Byleth is quick to follow her, mirroring her position on the other side. “Manuela, are you okay? Please, wake up!”

Pressing two fingers to the pulse on her neck, Byleth feels the thrum of Manuela’s heartbeat beneath her fingertips and lets out a relieved sigh. “She’s just unconscious.” Carefully, she runs her fingers through her friend’s hair to feel for any injuries and bumps. Nothing is found, and no visible injuries can be spotted either. Her uniform is blessedly clean of any blood. 

Byleth turns to the three students she assigned to lead the others in the search during these past weeks. “Claude, go get my father. Dimitri, Edelgard, take Manuela to the infirmary.” 

Claude is quick to offer her a salute and back out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway on his way out. Dorothea and Edelgard help arrange Manuela in Dimitri’s arms, who effortlessly stands and carries her out of the building with both girls in tow. Byleth is giving the room another cursory glance when Yuri steps closer to her. 

“Did you see that Manuela appeared to be pointing at something?” He jams his thumb in the direction of the shelves collapsed on top of one another. Picking up on his clue, Balthus steps forward to move the furniture away with the help of Dedue and Raphael.

Once the mess is cleared, a passageway is revealed to them, a dark tunnel with no apparent light at the end. Byleth stands at the edge of it, feeling a cold draft of wind that brushes past her legs and makes her skin crawl. Just what can be found at the end, and what exactly are they dealing with?

“Are we going in?” Dedue asks, standing a little ways behind her. Byleth looks back at her students. As amazing as they are, very few of them are used to combat and sparring sessions. Logically, she knows she should keep them out of it. Hell, Byleth herself should keep out of it and let her dad and the rest of the security team deal with it from here. 

But both Manuela and Flayn were taken by someone and are still missing. Byleth can’t keep herself from checking, and knows she can’t keep her students out either. They will come back on their own eventually being the little trouble-seeking rascals that they are.

“Take something you can protect yourself with for precaution. Be mindful of the weapons. They aren’t toys and they _will_ draw blood, so use them wisely and don’t go swinging them around playfully. It’s unlikely there’s anyone down there still, but if a fight breaks out, it will get bloody. That said, you can choose not to go if you want.” 

The students nod, but no one backs out of it, instead turning to the weapon racks around the room and perusing the items before making their choices. Ashe and Petra grab a bow and a quill of arrows each. Hilda tests the weight of an axe with a few experimental swings before nodding to herself, satisfied, and Dedue picks one of his own. Raphael, Caspar and Balthus turn to the gauntlets stored in crates. Leonie and Ingrid pick a lance each and test them with a few twirls. Felix and Yuri turn to the swords, the former offering Byleth one for her to use.

Byleth takes it, vaguely noticing how heavier it is compared to the training swords she’s been using, and levels each of them with a stern look. “Don’t wander too far. Stay close, stay quiet, eyes and ears open.”

She turns to the passageway, stopping at the top of the stairs again to take a steadying breath before venturing down into the darkness. The students follow her in an orderly line, their stunned silence disrupted only by their own steps, the rustling of fabric and the clinking of weapons. 

The temperature drops with each step taken, the air becoming more stale and damp the further down they go through the spiraling staircase. Goosebumps cover her arms under the long sleeves of her dress shirt as well as her legs, but the chill is only part of the reason. Her fingers trace the walls, the smooth stone blocks slowly becoming uneven and rough until they are gone and replaced entirely by natural stone. The ceiling of the stairwell starts opening up, their steps echoing, no longer reminiscing a man-made construction, but rather a cave.

Her short, quiet breaths cease completely when a dull thump comes from the end of the path. Instinctively, she stops in place and holds her breath, waiting, her students following suit after fumbling for a second. A clang resonates in the air, followed by another thump and a chuckle, and finally consecutive beats, like footsteps or... Hooves?

“What the hell is going on down there?” Hilda hisses from somewhere in the back, and by the Goddess, Byleth is asking herself the same question. 

She turns to face them and climbs up the few steps to close the distance between herself and the students. The stairway is small, but they squeeze together as close as they can to better hear her. “Listen to me,” she begins in a whisper, heart thundering in her ribcage. What to do? Hopefully all the strategy games she’s played over the years can help them now. 

“If a fight does break out, I want Petra and Ashe to go to higher ground and give us cover, got it?” She doesn’t see them nod, but hears their quiet replies of _yes, professor._ “Hilda, Leonie, Ingrid and Caspar, I want you to protect them. They’ll be vulnerable, so try to knock back as many people as you can. The others stay with me so we can advance and hopefully find Flayn. Once enough people are down, the others can come forth and join us.” 

Byleth turns back to glance at a faint orange glow in the distance. “Please, be careful. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. This is stupid and reckless and we shouldn’t even be here, but it isn’t too late to back out.” 

“Let’s go,” Felix pipes up from somewhere behind her. “We had our chance to turn back upstairs.” 

“Yeah, if some creep decided to kidnap Flayn and Professor Manuela, then they deserve a good beating.” Byleth can imagine Leonie nodding to herself, that determined look in her face when she encounters a challenge of any kind. 

“If anyone does get hurt, back off and try to leave. Help should be on the way.” Byleth flexes her fingers around the hilt of the sword. “Remember the plan. Stay close until we need to split.” 

Whereas before it felt like too long had passed to get to this point, closing the distance between them and the orange glow takes no more than thirty seconds. Despite the cavernous overall appearance of this underground chamber, gated areas and walls occupy parts of it, like a forgotten city below Garreg Mach. It’s something fantastical, like it was pulled straight out of a book, and a part of her buzzes with excitement for having found an unexplored area. She squashes it down quickly, though, so as not to lose her focus.

Byleth counts around twenty individuals standing between them and the other end of the room. They aren’t carrying any visible firearms; only baseball bats, crowbars and chains, whilst some have brass knuckles in their hands. If they’re just common thugs, then they should be easier to deal with than the alternative of well trained hitmen.

Past them there is an actual _horse_ , stomping its hoof on the ground in agitation, its black hair and mane glossy in the torchlight. Beside it, someone dressed in all black stands tall, an unusual skull helm on their head, and a _scythe_ , of all things, in hand. 

Byleth stops a few steps into the room and the students arrange themselves near her to take in their surroundings and opponents. The ones with most experience stand by her sides to shield those behind, the air around them growing thicker with nerves and anticipation.

“Is that Flayn?” Petra inquires, bringing their attention to the spot by the stranger’s feet where two bodies lie in stillness.

“Yes, and there’s someone else with her.” Ingrid frowns at the head full of red hair. “Who is that?”

“You!” Byleth’s attention is dragged away from Flayn’s immobile figure to one of the thugs to the left of the room, who’s pointing at her with a rusty crowbar. “It’s you! I’ll get my revenge today, damnit!” 

She tilts her head sideways in consideration, regarding him with her best nonchalant expression. “Do I know you?”

He freezes for a comical second before his steam returns in full, red coloring his face in anger. “You broke my nose last month!” 

Behind her, some of the students snicker. Ah, it’s one of the drunk guys who followed her. Wow, she really did a good job on him, his nose is still disconfigured and bruised. “Can’t say I remember you.” 

“Enough.” A distorted voice commands from the back of the room, and the thug falls silent. The masked person lifts a hand and points a finger at her, the gloves fashioned with pointed ends like claws. “You. One of us will die, the other will live. I will enjoy this dance of damnation.” 

“What the fuck,” Felix blurts to her right, and yeah, Byleth shares in the sentiment. _What the fuck?_

“Why’s he trying to be so edgy?” Hilda asks with a sniffle. “It’s not cute.” 

“I think he wants you to fight him, professor.” Caspar tugs on his gauntlets, itching to fight these strangers. Beside him, Balthus bumps his own fists together, the gauntlets clanking loudly. Byleth lifts a brow at his state of undress, only now noticing that he discarded his uniform shirt somewhere along the way. His muscles are impressive, though, she has to admit; maybe the display alone will be enough to get some of the thugs to back off.

Byleth turns her gaze back to the stranger and considers her options. If she could, shooting them would be an easy way out, but she doesn’t want to kill them, neither can she; they still need answers, and this person can provide them. Not to mention the possibility of being charged with murder; she can’t have that tainting her curriculum. 

Incapacitating them is her next best shot, but even wounded, they can retaliate by hurting either Flayn or the other person. Using the gun when they’re so close to Flayn is unwise, and revealing its existence too. Let this be the ace up her sleeve. 

Her fingers wrap around the hilt of the sword and she draws it from the scabbard, the blade gleaming under the torchlight as she arranges her grip on the weapon. Her heart is beating frantically in her chest, but her face remains stoic. Fake it till you make it. Don’t let anyone see how nervous she feels about this. The thugs part to let her pass, closing behind her again as a barrier between her and the students.

Behind the mask, the stranger sizes her up and nods. “Kill them.” 

Shit. “Kids, the plan!” is all she manages to shout before her sword connects with the scythe that comes swinging down towards her head. Sounds of struggle erupt behind her, but she’s too preoccupied trying to keep herself alive to turn back and try to guide them through this mess. 

Thankfully, she hears Yuri’s voice taking charge over the commotion. “Caspar and Hilda, protect Ashe!” 

The first yell of pain comes shortly after, making Byleth count her blessings that it’s a voice she doesn’t recognize. She parries another blow from the stranger and tries to cut into their side to slow them down, but they step away. If this is indeed Jeritza, then her chances of winning are narrow; not only is he more practiced in swordsmanship than she is, but by now he knows how she moves and what to expect. She never bothered to learn or pay attention to these things, because she never thought this would happen in the first place.

Well, sometimes you have to learn from your mistakes. And hopefully no other sparring partners will turn against her in the future.

One of the thugs charges into the fray with a battle cry, only to be prematurely cut off by a sickening crunch. “I’m a delicate flower, you know!” 

Byleth dances around the stranger, trying to find openings at the same time she tries to steal a glimpse at the fight behind them. Ashe knocks an arrow and sends it flying, piercing a woman on the shoulder when she raises the baseball bat above her head to attack Leonie. Her grip goes slack and the weapon tumbles to the ground as she clutches the injury with a screech of pain, doubling over and trying to withstand it. 

At least four of the thugs are now incapacitated, either unconscious or too wounded to continue. From the few things he’s revealed of his past, Byleth gathers that Yuri is street-smart, able to maneuver himself in a fight without a hitch. He carries this knowledge and steers his friends based on his own experiences. That, coupled with the raw strength of Dedue, Raphael and Balthus, as well as Felix’s and Yuri’s own fencing skills, guarantees their advantage. 

With another thug felled by an arrow in the knee, Byleth returns her full attention to the stranger, no longer on the defensive. She pushes them back with a couple of forceful strikes, knocking the scythe away for long enough to give her an opening to slash at their hip. They don’t do as much as hiss in pain, but rather seem to use it as fuel, the clang of the blades louder from their stronger strikes. 

A blur appears from the corner of her eyes, coming forth with incredible speed. She nearly loses her balance as the scythe she’d been forcing back pulls away completely to face Felix, blocking his strike before it can land a hit. 

Two against one doesn’t sound fair, but this has never been a fair fight from the start. Byleth and Felix team up against the captor, attuned to each other’s fighting styles after many mornings of sparring together. Though the stranger continues to block them, at least they don’t have the chance to fight back. 

Leonie’s cry is followed by a sharp _thwack_ as she hits one of the thugs on the head with the side of the lance, the blow strong enough to send the man stumbling sideways. “Take that!” 

Five more thugs are down. Yuri joins their fight against the masked stranger, each of them now trying to give the other openings to attack, but they continue to block and evade every strike. Sometimes, they are lucky enough that the tips of their swords graze against skin, tearing through black fabric and drawing a knick of blood. It’s not enough to get the stranger to stop; they are like a machine, intent on keeping their words and fighting them to the death. 

So intent on that that they grow tired of being on the defensive. They easily disarm Felix the next time he strikes, sending the blade skittering across the room in a shiny circle, and both Yuri and Byleth are too late to stop the stranger as they guide the scythe in a downward arc. 

The smell of copper grows heavy in the air as a sputter of blood spurts from the wound in Felix’s neck, his hands desperately trying to grasp at the slash on his throat as his knees give in under his weight. Ingrid’s scream echoes in the chamber, drowning out the panicked shouts of friends and classmates calling out his name. Byleth stands frozen in horrified silence until reality hits her like a freight train, her scream deafening to her own ears as she shuts her eyes tight against the burn of incoming tears.

Bile rises up her throat and her chest grows tight, constricting until it’s hard to breathe and she’s gasping for air. All at once, it flows outwards, the sharp, clear noise of shattering glass cutting through the ringing in her ears. All is deathly silent for a while, and Byleth slowly opens her eyes, afraid of seeing Felix’s dead body or more dying students.

The world is tinged in purple, as if she’s looking at it through lenses or a film, and frozen in time. Ingrid’s tears have stopped halfway to the ground, the blood has stopped spreading on the stones, the flames in the torches have stopped flickering. Everyone and everything is absolutely immobile, except for her and for strange glittering shards floating and twirling in the air.

“What...?” Her limbs feel stiff, but she spins around slowly to take everything in. 

Restless energy gathers in her arms, concentrating on her fingertips. Byleth lifts her hands, flexes her fingers and inspects her palms, frowning at the energy that wants to be released. She doesn’t understand any of this and doubts she will comprehend it someday, she doesn’t know how to let out all this building energy- but a part deep inside her subconscious seems to know exactly what needs to be done, and Byleth follows her instincts. They never once failed her before.

The scattered shards unite and circle her, in each of them a scene from reality that’s played out in the last minutes. Caspar and Hilda knocking one of the thugs out, Raphael delivering a mean uppercut, Petra taking aim at someone trying to sneak on Balthus. Byleth flicks through the spinning shards like she’s looking through a catalogue, or one of those holographic screens from sci-fi movies. She finds the shard that depicts when Felix was struck, and next finds the one from seconds before the masked person retaliated.

“Here,” she says to herself, tapping two fingertips on that particular shard. “I want to come back to this point.” 

Air billows around her, whipping her skirt and hair about. The shard glows bright, and that rush of energy spreads outward from her fingers and fills the room. Byleth watches, amazed and speechless, as reality rewinds before her very eyes. 

Felix’s fall plays in reverse, blood retreating into his body, skin mending itself, the scythe becoming clean once again, the skittering weapon returning to his hand. In that blessed moment of stillness, Byleth feels relief swelling up inside now that Felix is safe once again. The energy retreats, seeping into her pores and gathering inside her chest once more, growing smaller and curling into itself until Byleth can barely sense it.

When time resumes, she is quick to shove Felix out of the way. The only problem is, parrying with the sword is difficult at this closeness and angle, so she drops it entirely when instinct kicks in, raising her arms to grasp the scythe with her bare hands. 

“Professor!” The remaining thugs flock in their direction to keep Yuri and Felix busy whilst Byleth and the stranger are caught in a deadlock. They could simply strike her down, cut cleanly through her hands and end her life, but she can feel their gaze assessing her once more, curious and analytical beneath the mask.

“You.” Blood trickles down her arms from the open cuts in her palms, staining the white dress shirt a deep red. “What are you?” 

“Shut up,” she hisses, her palms stinging an awful thing. She wants to cry, she wants to scream, she wants to beat this person into oblivion for kidnapping one of her students and killing another one. And Manuela! Goddess, when she finds out about what Byleth just did, she’ll never hear the end of it. “Just shut the fuck up.” 

That same alien energy gathers in her hands, and she quickly comes up with a plan, once again following her gut. Byleth ducks sideways, releasing the scythe to shove her wounded palms into the stranger’s side, whispering words that are both strange and familiar under her breath. Her hands spark white and blue, and electric current leaves her fingers, which makes them jolt away from her. It’s not strong by any means, but it catches them off guard enough that they drop the scythe and step back in shock.

Making good use of that opportunity, Raphael barrels in like a train, wrapping his arms around the person’s middle and taking them a safe distance away before tackling them down. The skull helm clangs as the stranger’s head bangs on the stone ground, their spine arching up from the impact.

“Felix, get the scythe!” She kicks said weapon in his general direction and reaches under her skirt, her bloody hands staining the dark fabric and her thighs. “Raphael, get away and stand back!” 

The student quickly jumps back as the person begins to stand, clutching at bruised ribs. They’re cornered and with nowhere to go. The thugs are all knocked out. There’s no escape. They have the culprit.Finally, _finally._

Byleth takes the gun out, dropping to her knee to level herself with non vital parts of them. The stranger freezes at the sight of the firearm, and she closes one eye to take aim, pointing the barrel at their leg. Undoing the safety lock, she pulls the trigger, the bullet sizzling through the air with a bang, headed fast in their direction. 

It never connects as intended. After a brief and bright flash of purple, the spot where they’d been standing is suddenly vacant. The projectile cuts through empty air until it lodges in the nearest stone wall. 

Bewildered, Byleth remains kneeling and slowly lowers her weapon as silence descends into the room. They simply _disappeared._ Vanished. _Poof_ , gone. In the blink of an eye, just like that. How is she going to explain that? How is she going to explain to herself that she _rewound time?_ Is there even an explanation to all of this?

“Professor!” Some of the students come to her side, whilst others go and tend to Flayn and the other student. “Professor, your hands!”

As if just remembering the wounds, she hisses and drops the gun, now drenched in her blood. More of it flows from the cuts, dripping down and staining the floor just as Felix’s blood once did. “I have a- a handkerchief in my pocket.”

Petra excuses herself as she reaches into the pocket and pulls it out, quickly tying it around her palm to staunch the blood flow. Hilda does the same in her other hand with a handkerchief of her own. 

“Professor, how did you do that?” Caspar asks, hovering just over her shoulder. “And the gun!” 

“Adrenaline rush,” she breathes out, picking herself up from the floor with some difficulty. Mindful of the blood, Leonie collects the gun and puts the safety lock as instructed by Byleth. “Is everyone okay? How’s Flayn?” 

“Unconscious, but unharmed,” Dedue relies and carefully sweeps the girl up in his arms. 

“And the other?” She asks, glancing at the red haired girl now leaning on Raphael’s chest as he carries her. “Does anyone know her?”

“I’ve never seen her before.” Yuri narrows his eyes at her, like she’s a move in a game of chess he hadn’t predicted. Neither had Byleth, for that matter; she never saw this girl in any of the classes or anywhere near the Academy. Who is she and what is she doing here?

Ashe looks around at the groaning thugs and takes a step closer to Byleth. “M-Maybe we should leave and figure it out upstairs?” 

She glances at the results of their altercation. Thankfully, the only blood in sight comes from broken noses and arrow punctures. Some limbs are broken or bruised from the strike of weapons, but that aside, the thugs don’t seem to be missing an arm or leg. They will live. Her students were smart in using the blunt ends of the weapons. 

“Yes, let’s go to the infirmary.” Byleth herds the students to the exit, throwing one last look to the spot where the helmed person had been. 

As they climb up the stairway, Balthus muses aloud to himself. “It’s been two weeks since Flayn and Manuela went missing. Why were they still here?”

That is a question that Byleth would love to know the answer to, but it can wait for now. First, they have to take the girls to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strums acoustic guitar* hello......... it's me........ and I know I disappeared for nearly two months, but I needed a small break after Yuriashe Week akjhajkf and also so I could try and move past the part where I was stuck in this fic, which I think I managed to do so yesterday hehe
> 
> Let's see *pulls out notepad* Byleth pretty much calling Seteth old. I live for this and you love to see it. It's like one-sided banter! Now all we need is for Seteth to stop being so uptight and partake in it too, mhmmm. 
> 
> I had this written for a long time now, long before I even got into rarepair hell, so imagine my surprise when I was revising this chapter yesterday and saw that I had Yuri ordering two people to protect Ashe. Wow, the yuriashe crumbs, they're so tasty and this ship has been lying dormant inside me for a long time. Amazing. Incredible. Outstanding. 
> 
> And finally! Our little lettuce was found :^) along with Monica because mhmhm yeah you know *vague hand gestures* reasons, I guess. Writing the whole fight was hard, but writing the Divine Pulse was Harder. I hope I managed to do it some justice, and also that you guys enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> Stay healthy, stay safe, and vote wisely if there are elections in your area. Cheers 💚
> 
> EDIT: forgot to mention, but I constantly imagined the fight scene when I listened to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFnVVxRY0a4&ab_channel=FrancoEUM) from the OST.


	9. reunited

Claude, Edelgard and Dimitri have returned by the time Byleth and the other students emerge from the stairway. They’ve brought Alois and a couple of other guards along, all of which jump back as soon as Byleth steps out of the shadows. Alois may or may not have let out an undignified shout at her sudden appearance, but for his sake, she pretends to not have heard it. 

Besides, they have more pressing matters to talk about and Alois grasps onto them quickly as a way to save some face. “A-Ah, Byleth, I see you found Flayn. And who is- what happened to you?!”

She looks down at her arms, having already grown used to the unpleasant sensation of wet cloth sticking to her skin. “It’s not as bad as it seems, don’t worry. Look, there are about twenty people downstairs. You’ll want to take them into custody so we can get some answers.”

“Of course, of course.” He nods, waving to the men to go on ahead, both to reach the strangers faster and to check for ghosts and other supernatural entities or something of the like. “Go to the infirmary, yeah? Get that checked.” Alois gives her a smile and a pat on the shoulder before he follows the others down the stairs seeming braver than he probably feels. 

“Professor, are you all right?” Dimitri asks, eyeing the large red stain on the sleeves of her shirt with concern. She offers him a smile and a nod, and pushes past them to lead the others out of the building, eager herself to get out of there. 

It’s not a very long way from that part of the Academy to the infirmary, but still they attract many stares as they pass. As if her blood-soaked sleeves aren’t enough, Balthus is still shirtless and flexing his muscles to show off to anyone who bothers to look their way. Coupled with two unconscious girls being carried, they must make quite the sight. 

The infirmary is small, with only three beds at their disposal. One is already occupied by Manuela, and Dorothea sits faithfully by her side. She stands as soon as Byleth comes through the open door, her green eyes widening at the sight of her teacher, but she stays quiet as the girls are placed on the vacant beds and the nurse gets to work on checking Flayn’s vitals. 

Byleth turns to Claude, standing off to the side near Raphael, Hilda and Leonie. “So, my dad?”

“He’s been in a meeting with Miss Rhea and the Nabateas for a while now. Alois was the first I could find that wasn’t busy.”

She nods in understanding. Alois is just as capable of dealing with the thugs, and she wouldn’t be able to speak with her dad right away anyway. “Okay, who wants to go and interrupt the meeting to tell them we found Flayn?” 

The students remain quiet, a few of them shuffling behind taller colleagues to hide from her sight. Byleth sees Dedue start to raise his hand when Edelgard steps forward and cuts in, “I will go.” She briskly leaves the room in a flurry of brown hair and black skirt, and amidst the group of students, someone sighs in relief. 

Anya, the nurse, turns to Byleth once she’s done with Flayn. “Her heartbeat is normal, her eyes undamaged and her reflexes are fine. She doesn’t have any signs of concussions, so it’s hard to say why she is unconscious. It’s the same condition as Manuela’s, actually. I might have to take a sample of her blood and get it tested for any poison or drug.” 

“We’ll need her brothers’ consent to do that, but thank you.” She watches Anya check for the unknown girl’s heartbeat and speaks as soon as the stethoscope is looped around her neck. “Have you already drawn some blood from Manuela?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid we’ll only get the results after a few days. We lack the equipment needed to check for that, but Mr. Gilbert has offered to take it to the nearest clinic in Remire.” 

Anya has just turned back to tend to the girl when rushed footsteps sound from the hallway. In no time, Seteth bursts into the room with his brothers in tow, the three of them crowding around Flayn’s bedside like worried mother hens. Seteth does his best to hug the unconscious girl to his chest without disturbing her too much whilst Michael pats her hair and Isaac holds her hand tightly. 

Edelgard returns to the infirmary with some kind of satisfied gleam in her eyes that Byleth can see has  _ nothing _ to do with their reunion.

Byleth is about to turn to her students and guide them out of the room to give the siblings some privacy when Isaac turns his eyes to them. “Professor Eisner, I-  _ is that scythe? _ ”

She looks over her shoulder to the weapon in question, being nonchalantly held in Felix’s grip. She tries not to think about how that very same weapon took his life before she did what she did. Either way, Byleth will have to pry that off him later, lest he makes use of it to finally follow through with his words and murders Sylvain the next chance he gets. 

Isaac’s observation draws more stares their way. “Is that a  _ gun _ ?” Michael has his eyes on the firearm resting on Leonie’s upturned palms. Seteth lifts his head from where it had been resting on Flayn’s, alarm slowly taking over the sheer relief in his eyes. 

“That’s mine.” Byleth quickly takes it from Leonie and turns around, lifting the side of her skirt to return the gun to the holster strapped to her leg.

Wrong move. Now they have seen all the blood coating her hands and forearms. “What happened?” Seteth demands, standing up on shaking legs; she can’t tell if they’re a result from relief or shock. Probably both. “Professor, you are- the students-”

“We’re fine,” Yuri is quick to reassure. “The professor took the blow for one of us.” 

Felix narrows his eyes at Yuri, and Byleth can almost hear the click of his tongue under Caspar’s enthusiastic retelling. “You should’ve seen her! It was so cool! The professor pushed Felix out of the way and grabbed the scythe with her  _ bare hands _ and told the Death Knight to shut the fuck up! She was so badass!”

“D-Death Knight?” Ashe asks quietly from behind Dedue, poking his head around the bulk of his frame to look at his overly energetic friend.

Caspar nods excitedly. “Yeah, I figured he needs a name. How did you do that professor?”

“Didn’t I tell you already? Adrenaline rush.” She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s very common. You can google it.” 

“Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt the gallant retelling of our professor’s badassery, but she needs to have these wounds treated.” Dorothea interrupts, no longer at Manuela’s bedside, but standing beside Byleth instead.

Isaac, who has approached with his brothers, nods in agreement. “She is right, professor. Please, allow Miss Anya to take a look.” 

Byleth lifts her hands and flexes her fingers experimentally. “They feel fine.”

“Professor Eisner, stop being stubborn.” Michael pipes up, and the fact alone that  _ he _ is the one calling her out leaves her spinning.

She shakes her head both to clear it and to refuse the help. “But they feel  _ fine _ .” 

Dorothea, deciding to take charge, takes one of her hands to work out the knot tied on the handkerchief to keep it in place. Ingrid mirrors her actions on the other hand, blonde eyebrows furrowed as she works. Their fingers get stained red from the freshness of the blood. 

Anya pushes through them to take Byleth by the arm and drags her to a small granite counter in the corner of the room. The students and teachers crowd around them as the nurse places Byleth’s hands over the sink and opens the tap to let the water wash away most of the blood. Anya pauses once Byleth’s palms are mostly clean, frowning as she takes Byleth’s wrist gently and lifts her hand to take a closer look at it.

She turns to address the teachers, her face pale and brown eyes wide. “T-The wounds are gone.” 

“What?” Isaac’s eyes grow as wide as saucers. “That cannot be possible.” 

Byleth pries her arm out of Anya’s slack grip and rubs a thumb over her palm. The wounds really are gone, having left not even a single scar behind. “I told you they were fine.” 

While the three brothers grow strangely quiet at the announcement, her students start talking over one another about the mysterious way in which the cuts might have healed. Edelgard looks at her like she’s a completely different person, Claude watches like she’s some sort of interesting experiment, Yuri has once again that narrow-eyed look when something has caught him out of guard, and Dimitri is amazed and confused in equal measures, mouth parted and hanging open.

She’s always healed faster than the average person, as far as she recalls. Broken bones, scraped knees, accidental cuts on the fingers when cooking; her body mended itself in a few hours, a few days at most depending on the damage done. A cut this big should’ve taken at least five days to heal, not one or two hours. 

When doctors expressed their surprise and desire to run exams to check on her peculiar condition, Jeralt never let them. Byleth doesn’t understand it herself, and she never did. She’s come to realize she doesn’t understand or know many things _ about _ herself anymore, not since she returned to Remire. 

To distract her own mind from its rampaging thoughts, Byleth turns to a stunned Ingrid and takes the handkerchiefs from her hands. They’re soiled with blood, and she can only hope to clean them somehow, though it would be best to buy a new handkerchief for Hilda. Byleth sighs and drops her shoulders. “Kids.” They quiet down and look at her, shuffling in place anxiously. “If you’re going to gossip, do so outside. Let’s leave so they can rest.” 

Once all of them have exited the room, she bids an awkward goodbye to the brothers and the nurse, and takes her leave. Thankfully, she has a change of clothes in the locker room and she’s eager to get rid of this soiled shirt.

* * *

It’s only when Byleth is under the warm stream of water that she notices a strange shape on her chest.

Later, she stands in front of the mirror in only her towel, gently prodding the marked skin with a fingertip. She swallows against the lump in her throat and tries to ward off the million questions swarming her head when she recognizes the mark as one of the lost Crests of old.

The Crest of Flames.

It shouldn’t be possible. Whatever this is, it can’t be possible, and the more she thinks about it, the more a headache threatens to begin. That thing she did in that cavernous place, the current of magic that travelled from her fingertips, the Sword of the Creator...

Byleth steps away from the mirror to change, shoving the thoughts into some dark corner of her mind. Now freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, she heads back to the faculty building to meet with her father. Her shirt had to be thrown away, as had both the handkerchiefs. As much as she’d tried to wash the blood away, stains remained behind. She will get a new one for Hilda... And one to herself while she’s at it. 

By now, the students should have reported to her dad the events that took place beneath Garreg Mach, and Alois has probably already returned from his investigation. All that is left is her own report and then she can visit Manuela in the infirmary. 

Afterwards, her father can finally go back home. 

Jeralt stands from his chair when she enters his office and he’s by her side as soon as the door closes behind her back, grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her at arm’s length to get a good look at her. “The brats wouldn’t stop talking about how you stopped a scythe bare-handed.” He snorts, but there’s concern in his eyes as he turns her this way and that. “Seriously, By, I didn’t sign you up for all these classes as a kid so you could fight maniacal guys with crazy deadly weapons.”

“All that certainly came in handy.” She pats his arm lightly and gives him a reassuring smile. Jeralt sighs and drops his hands from her shoulders. 

“What even prompted that kind of reaction?” He asks, walking back to his desk and plopping down on the chair with a tired grunt. “The kid with the light purple hair said you shoved someone out of the way. The prickly brat, right?”

“Yuri and Felix, dad, and yes.” She shoves the mental image of a torn throat out of her head as soon as it appears. Byleth holds back a grimace too as something hot and bitter threatens to rise up her throat. “Felix was going to die if I didn’t do anything.”

Jeralt rubs his eyes and sighs. He’s exhausted after consecutive days and nights spent here in the Academy, and hearing that she grabbed the blade of a scythe with her hands before seeing that she was safe and sound must have taken out a few years of his lifespan. She offers an apologetic smile when his eyes focus on her again.

“They said the wounds on your hands healed by themselves?”

“Oh... That...” When she doesn’t continue, Jeralt merely places his hand on the table, palm up, as a silent request. 

Byleth places her hand on his, watches as he frowns at the unmarred skin and rubs his thumb along the palm of her hand like she’d done earlier, like maybe it will uncover the cut somehow. He has a faraway look in his eyes as he regards her hand, the pinch of his brows deepening the more he thinks. 

Jeralt releases her hand, gently putting it back on the table, and leans back on his chair. “By now word’s already gotten out, so there’s not much we can do to stop the gossip.” Byleth lifts her brows at his tone. He seems strangely okay with all of this, like this isn’t some kind of abnormal occurrence at all. “You’ll have to deal with some rumors, though.”

“Not like I don’t do that already.” He’s probably overheard some of those too, especially these last weeks. “Did Alois find anything?” 

“No.” An irritated huff leaves him. “By the time Alois got down there, there was nothing to be found. No bodies, no horse as was reported, no weapons. Only a pool of dried blood.”

“How strange. How could they- the stranger teleported away but-”

“That shouldn’t be possible.” She nods at her father’s words, but it sounds like he’s talking to himself. “Either way, we’ll continue looking into it. We have to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again.” 

Nodding once more, she prompts, “and Manuela? Are she and Flayn awake?”

“They all woke up about half an hour after you returned. Seteth and his weird brothers were adamant that the nurse didn’t take a sample of Flayn’s blood, saying they’d take her to a clinic personally later.” Jeralt rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Manuela is lucid and has given her own version of the whole thing too.”

“And the other one?”

“Monica Ochs, if I remember correctly. She used to be a student here, but vanished last year at some point. When questioned, Rhea said the Academy and her parents looked for her, but she was never found. She was believed to have run away, or was presumed dead by others.” He rubs his chin in contemplation. “Now, here’s the thing: she wants to resume her studies right away.”

Byleth rests her cheek on a fist and considers his words. “Isn’t that... Odd? She was held hostage all along. Surely she needs some time to herself and to reunite with her family? Maybe some therapy?”

“Not only that, but she’s perfectly healthy for someone who was missing for a year and was found unconscious in some cave.” Jeralt sighs again and rolls his shoulders. She can see how eager he is to go home and to stop thinking about Academy problems for a few hours. “Listen, something’s off about that girl. Be careful around her.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Byleth stands up and undoes the holster around her thigh, laying it on the desk. “Only used one bullet. I missed.” 

“Anyone would when the target magically teleports away.” He reaches for the weapon and returns it to one of the drawers. “Don’t be mistaken, I’ll return it to you on Monday. I don’t want you walking around unarmed until we figure out what’s going on.” 

After agreeing to go home as soon as she’s done talking with Manuela, Byleth leaves the office and goes to the infirmary next door. The other two beds are empty, though Manuela is lying in hers as she scrolls through her phone, frowning at the device. She looks a bit pale, but Byleth chalks it up to the fluorescent lights of the room. Other than that, she looks healthy enough. 

Byleth raps her knuckles on the door to catch her attention, and Manuela lowers her phone to look at the entrance. “Byleth! How nice to see you!” She quickly puts down her phone and sits up in bed. Her shoes have been taken off and were placed neatly beside the bed. “Would you look at me? A patient in my own infirmary. How disgraceful.” 

“You're using the beds to laze around just now,” Byleth quips, smiling at her friend as she comes to stand by her bedside. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you found me.” Manuela grasps her hands and gives them a firm squeeze. Her eyes are brighter with unshed tears. “I wasn’t aware I went missing for so long. I just finished reading through all your messages. I’m so sorry I worried you so much.”

Byleth shakes her head and sits on the edge of the mattress. “Nothing to apologize about, it wasn’t your fault. What happened, though?”

Manuela’s face turns into a dangerous mix of sour and anger. “I was just leaving for my date when I realized I’d lost my wallet, so I went back to the classrooms figuring it must have fallen out at some point. That’s when I saw Jeritza carrying Flayn over his shoulder like the poor girl was just a potato sack.” She sniffs lightly and wrinkles her nose, turning it up in the air. 

“I dropped everything and went after him. He went into the storage rooms and I was intent on getting some help, but I felt a sudden sharp pain on the nape of my neck and everything got dark. He had the audacity to knock me out. Me!” 

Despite the seriousness of the story, Byleth can’t keep herself from smiling at Manuela’s indignation. “At least he didn’t stab you.”

“Oh, if he did, I’d stab him back! That’s no way to treat a lady.” She clicks her tongue, but ends up smiling when Byleth lets out a quiet snicker. “In any case, I’m glad to be awake again. I don’t know what he did to keep me unconscious for so long.” 

Byleth has been wondering that too, but doesn’t think they’ll ever find out even with the blood tests results. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

“Oh that won’t be necessary. You’ll never believe it, but Hanneman offered to drive me home. Hah, I can hardly believe it myself.” She flicks her fingers through her short hair, tossing the strands in an artistic flutter. “He was so earnest I decided to accept.”

“Hmm,” Byleth hums, hiding her amusement when Manuela looks at her again. “I’ll leave it in his hands then. I’m going home myself; my dad really needs some proper food and sleep in a real bed.”

“I’m sure he does,” Manuela says in a quieter, somber tone. “I’m just glad the three of us came out alive. And you too! I heard of what you did.”

Byleth reaches for her hand again. “I did what had to be done. Now rest and take care. Call me if you need anything.” 

Manuela bids her a farewell and slowly lowers herself down on the bed again. Byleth closes the door to the infirmary and turns to go to her father’s office, stopping when she finds Seteth once again standing outside his own office and looking at her expectantly. Already he looks like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and the deep lines of worry on his face have eased. 

She complies with his unspoken request and enters his office, the door shutting shortly after with a quiet click. Figuring this will be a quick conversation, Byleth remains standing, watching as he wrings his hands before catching himself. 

He remains quiet for a while longer, chasing his thoughts. “Professor Eisner, I... Please, allow me to express my eternal gratitude. Flayn is safe and sound, and I have you to thank for that. Mere words could never express how grateful I am. I...” Here, a smile blooms on his face, one that makes him seem younger and...  _ So charming _ . “I am indebted to you.” 

Byleth, finding herself entranced by the sight of his rare smile, grasps onto the first words she can find. “Indebted, huh?” Seteth’s joyful relief is replaced by confusion and mild wariness, and she quickly recovers from her own blunder with a quiet laugh. “I’m just messing with you. Honestly, I’m just happy she is safe.”

“Yes, indeed. I... I, too, am overjoyed.” The smile returns when he nods to himself, and Byleth’s heart does a little skip in her chest. “I... I would like to extend a dinner invitation to you. We would be delighted to have you in our home this Saturday, if you are available.” 

Ah, yes, she recalls Isaac’s invitation that one time she dropped Seteth off after dinner, to which she replied with rescheduling it as a victory/celebratory dinner. 

“Of course. Thank you.” She offers him a smile. This might be the first time they are smiling at one another like this. 

“Wonderful. I will text you the details.” Seteth tightens the grip he has on his own hands, shoulders tensing. “I promise to clarify some things, but I would be more comfortable doing so in the privacy of our home.”

“I understand. I’m looking forward to it.” 

Byleth sees herself out, offering him another awkward wave before closing the door of his office. Checking her dad’s office, she finds he’s already headed for the car and taken both their stuff, so she turns to head to the parking lot as well. It’s barely late afternoon and already she’s exhausted, but that’s to be expected after the strenuous situation she found herself in. Seems like tonight it will be an  _ order pizza and crash early _ kind of night. 

Just as she’s walking to the stairs, Rhea appears at the doorway of the sitting/meeting room outside her office, seemingly as if she’d been waiting for a chance to corner Byleth into a conversation. “Dear child, may I have a word with you?” 

Byleth’s skin prickles under the clean, dry shirt she’s wearing, and she walks over to the principal after giving her a nod. Over these past days, Byleth has seen Rhea out and about aiding in the searches as much as her duties would allow. They ran into each other by the Goddess Tower once, and Byleth had the excuse of being late for class to keep the brief exchange of words exactly that.

It’s been a while since she’d had a one on one with Rhea like this, just the two of them inside a room. To be honest, Byleth avoids the principal as much as she can. It’s not that she doesn’t like Rhea as a person, but rather that she doesn’t like the way Rhea stares. 

She thinks of the mark of the Crest of Flames in her chest and touches the buttoned collar of her shirt discreetly to make sure it’s well concealed.

Rhea smiles and folds her hands neatly in front of herself. The fact that she hasn’t invited Byleth to sit down ignites a flare of hope that this conversation will be a quick one; perhaps Rhea can see in her face just how tired she is after what happened this afternoon. If Byleth looks the way she feels, then she sure is an unpleasant sight right now. 

“Thank you for all your efforts, professor. We could not have done it without your assistance.” 

Perhaps no one else would be stupid enough to face off against the “Death Knight” the way she did, but she’s sure they would have found them. Eventually. “There’s no need to thank me, Miss Rhea. I would’ve done it for any of my students.” 

The smile on Rhea’s face widens. “I have been told that Manuela and Flayn are recovering nicely, as is Monica.” 

Byleth doesn’t ask about Monica, having heard about her from Jeralt, and she doesn’t share her doubts with Rhea either. She hasn’t spoken to the girl just yet, but none of this sits right with her. 

“Monica has asked to rejoin the Academy once she has fully recovered,” Rhea relays, oblivious to Byleth’s feelings towards the new student. “She will be returning to the first year class.” 

“I see. I’ll do my best to help her and make her feel welcomed.” Even as she says it, the words taste sour on her tongue. There’s the same instinct that tells her to stay away from the librarian, Tomas, trickling in her gut and telling her to keep her distance from Monica. “I’ll assign a student to help her, too.” 

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, professor.” Rhea’s lips press together for a moment, her light green eyes accessing Byleth in that split second. “I heard you were also injured during the encounter. Has something happened to your hands?”

_ Lie _ , a distant voice tells her, because that seems like the logical thing to do for some reason.  _ Lie, lie, lie _ . “Just some scrapes and a bit of soreness on my arms and wrists from all the blows, is all.” She doesn’t try to make her smile seem convincing; tired as she is, it would look wry at best anyway. “The kids are blowing it out of proportion. One of them even nicknamed the masked individual the Death Knight.” 

Rhea hums, either unconvinced or, again, disappointed. Byleth might never understand what expectations Rhea has and how to reach them, not that she’s particularly looking into reaching those standards. “I am glad to hear you are mostly unharmed, professor. I will not keep you longer for I am certain you need to rest.” 

“Thank you, Miss Rhea. If you’ll excuse me...” Byleth nods and leaves the room, keeping her pace calm and steady until she reaches the parking lot.

Predictably, Jeralt is already there waiting for her, their stuff perched on the roof of the car whilst he’s leaning on its side. He lifts a questioning eyebrow, and Byleth is left to wonder if he caught the nuances in her face because he knows how to read her that well or because she’s too tired to keep her expressions in check.

“Rhea,” she murmurs as she walks past him, earning a grunt as reply. She unlocks the car with the press of a button, Jeralt puts their stuff in the backseat, and off they go. Jeralt stays quiet, and Byleth doesn’t say anything either.

* * *

Jeralt’s silence doesn’t last for as long as she would have liked, not after she tells him about the dinner invitation.

“Just who are you trying to impress?” He asks from where he’s leaning against the door jamb, a big fluffy bathrobe wrapped around his already large frame and a mug of coffee in hand. It might be spiked, though, and the print of “world’s best dad” on the white porcelain is mocking her right now. 

“No one,” she replies in a neutral tone, lifting up another cloth hanger in front of her body to visualize how the dress will look. Maybe she should bother Manuela as she recovers after all, because this is getting nowhere. “This is an informal dinner between coworkers, but since I’m not close to them, and you know how picky Seteth and Michael are, I can’t just show up in jeans and a t-shirt like I would with Manuela and the others. So, dark red or black?” 

Jeralt considers both dresses in a bored manner when she holds them up. They aren’t short or too revealing, but they’re rather form fitting. “Black. Unless you wanna bang one of them, then the red one.” 

Byleth’s eyebrows climb up her forehead. “I hope you know it’s awfully disturbing to hear these words coming out of your mouth with such nonchalance.” She cringes, hanging the red dress on the door of her wardrobe. “You really want me to start dating one of them, uh?” 

“Not really,” he replies after taking a sip of his coffee. “As a matter of fact, don’t date anyone from Garreg Mach. They’re all fucking weird.” 

“Not that I’m planning to, but you don’t even know half of them personally,” she counters. “What makes you say that?”

“Just trust me on this. Don’t let your guard down, especially around Rhea.” 

Byleth stares at him in silence for a moment, waiting for him to say it’s all a joke, but he’s dead serious. It’s not that Rhea hasn’t made her feel uncomfortable before, because oh she  _ has _ , but her dad was never so... Weird and cryptic about people before. “All right.”

He’s satisfied with her answer and pushes away from the door to give her some privacy to change. Byleth sheds her pajamas and dresses into her chosen outfit, doing her best to ignore the new mark on her chest and slipping her feet into low heeled shoes next. She doesn’t bother with trying to make an eyeliner work, so she applies a generous coat of mascara and some lip balm and calls it a day, running a brush through her dark blue hair to tame it. 

Pleased with her reflection, she grabs a jacket and purse on her way out of the room, going downstairs to meet with her dad again. He’s sunk into the couch seat, the TV replaying a boxing match from some time in the past weeks that he couldn’t watch. Sothis is curled into the side of his leg, purring softly as he scratches her head idly. There are traces of Byleth’s face mask on his skin, a basin with warm water on the floor for him to soak his feet, and a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table. 

Jeralt lifts his mug in a mock cheer when he spots her again. “That looks nice.”

“Thanks.” She runs her hand down the skirt of the dress. It stops two inches above the knees, so she doesn’t consider it scandalous to their standards. “I don’t think I’ll be long.”

“Text me your location,” he instructs before drinking another sip. “If you don’t arrive until midnight, I’ll head over with Alois.”

“Sheesh, dad, they aren’t going to try to kill me. Not after I helped rescue Flayn.” Byleth starts transferring items from her daily bag to the purse she rarely uses. Wallet, phone, keys... “Well, not until I betray them in some way and lose all the trust I’ve earned.” 

He chuckles heartily, startling Sothis from her semi-dozing state. The white cat lifts her head to give him a disgruntled stare, and he rolls his eyes as he pats her head with a heavy hand. “Be careful out there, and I don’t mean just at their house. We don’t know where that creep is. You sure you don’t want to take the gun?”

“Positive.” Byleth leans over the backrest of the couch to give him a hug. “I stopped him with my bare hands anyway.” 

“Yeah...” Jeralt takes one of her hands in his to observe her palms again, unmarred and unmarked. Though the speed in which she recovers from bruises is something he’s well used to, she can tell there’s something about all of this that is rattling him. 

He gives her hand a squeeze before dropping it. “Text me when you get there.” 

“And before I head home, got it.” She reaches over to pet Sothis and pulls away from her dad completely. “Bye, dad. Don’t add too much rum to the coffee.” His acknowledging grunt is the last thing she hears before exiting the house. 

Choosing another playlist for the ride, Byleth drives to the patch of woods in which the Nabatea siblings’ house is located. She’s never been there during daylight times before, and it’s beautiful the way beams of sunlight filter through the canopy of the trees as she drives down the paved road before turning to enter the gravel road. 

Their home looks twice as beautiful in daylight. Byleth parks the jeep out of the main path, but as close to the house as possible without getting in the way. The lights on the first floor are on, and she hears no sound from within as she stands on the porch fixing her dress and picking the few stray cat hairs that managed to cling to her outfit. Before she can ring the doorbell, the door is hastily opened when she’s patting down her hair. 

Stunned, Byleth looks down at the short form of Flayn, who’s beaming at her as bright as the sun itself. The uniform with ruffled and puffy leaves is nowhere in sight, replaced by a simple, but beautiful deep blue dress with trumpet sleeves. “Good evening, professor! Please, come in.”

Byleth excuses herself as she steps inside. One could already gauge it from the outside, but the house really is big and spacious, and decorated tastefully. Though the furniture could be considered minimalist, the whole ensemble is anything but with the various pieces and trinkets that decorate what can be considered a sitting room. Something inside her awakens at the old, nearly ancient appearance of some of the items, hands itching to pick them up and analyze them. 

She beats down the urge and follows Flayn to the large white couch, where her student picks up a small video game console of pale blue and green colors. It suits her, Byleth thinks, and Flayn eagerly shows her the device.

“Brother got me this game the day you found me!” Green eyes shining in excitement, Flayn starts moving her character around the beach shore of what looks like an island. “You make your own island town from scratch! Oh, and you can invite animals to live there too! But what I like most is fishing! Do you want to see what I have caught?” 

Her enthusiasm is contagious, and Byleth finds herself smiling. “Of course! That sounds like a lovely game.”

“It is! Oh! It is best if I show you after dinner.” Byleth nods in agreement as Flayn puts the console in sleep mode and slips it into a white protective case. “Please, professor, this way.” 

The closer they get to the kitchen, the more pronounced the smell of their dinner becomes. Garlic, onion, spices and herbs, and the familiar smell of Gautier cheese. Over the sizzling of the food on the stove, she hears the three brothers conversing amongst themselves.

“Does she even like Faerghan cuisine?” Comes the gruff voice of Michael, detached as it usually is.

“Her last name is Eisner,” Isaac replies with confidence. “It’s a popular name there.” 

“The professor has told Flayn once that she lived there,” Seteth amends. “It is also in her curriculum, so yes, his guess is correct.” 

The three are huddled around the stove, Michael stirring a pot while Seteth reads over a piece of faded parchment paper, likely a recipe. Isaac is leaning over Michael’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the food, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up to his elbows, a knife in hand with bits of herbs still clinging to the blade. 

Flayn lightly clears her throat, drawing their attention from whatever is in the pot. Isaac offers them a smile and switches the knife for a kitchen towel to clean his hands with. “Welcome to our home, Professor Eisner. Please, have a seat.” 

“Thank you. Please, just Byleth is fine.” Flayn guides her to the stools on one side of the kitchen island and hops on one of them excitedly. 

“Byleth it is,” he agrees with a nod of his head. “Then, please call me Isaac. Can I offer you anything to drink? We have tea, juice, and wine in the cellar, if that’s your fancy.” 

They have a  _ wine cellar _ ? Then again, given the size of this house, she shouldn’t be too surprised. “Just tea is fine, thanks.” 

“Thank you for joining us, pro- Byleth.” Seteth steps away from the stove to greet her. He’s smiling again, small and grateful, and she finds herself swallowing at the sight. “It is a pleasure to have you here.” 

“Thank you for inviting me.” She returns the smile with one of her own. “Your house is nice. I noticed there are a lot of historical items all around.” 

Michael grunts, but she’s unsure if it’s in response to her words or the food in the pan. It might be the latter with the way he’s glaring at it. “Isaac is a fan of the arts. He enjoys collecting old, useless objects.” 

“I do not recall ever calling your collection of old maps of Fódlan useless, Mac.” Isaac quips as he approaches the island counter with a tray of tea in hands. He sets a cup before Byleth and Flayn, then picks up the teapot. “Is four-spice tea fine? I can brew something else.” 

“It’s good, there’s no need.” She nods gratefully as he pours the hot liquid into her cup.

“Indeed. It is Seteth’s favorite, by the way.” Byleth gives him a quizzical glance, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Okay? She knew that already, but what is she supposed to do with that information? “Would you like some sugar?” 

“Just a little, please.” 

Seteth lightly clears his throat. “Dinner should be ready in a couple of minutes. The roast needs to be in the oven for a while more and... We are  _ trying _ to get the consistency of the cheese sauce right.” 

Michael groans again. “I told you, you should have asked Flayn to look up a recipe on the so called internet instead of digging up that dusty cookbook.” 

“But it is the traditional Gautier cheese sauce passed down through generations!” Isaac shoots back and wanders close to the stove, nudging his brother away. “Give me the recipe, I will show you how it is done.” 

Seteth lets out a quiet sigh and turns to his sister. “Flayn, would you please keep the- keep Byleth entertained until we figure this out?” 

Nodding, Flayn hops off the stool. “Would you like to see my bedroom, professor? I have an aquarium!” 

Together, they exit the kitchen and leave the brothers to try and salvage the cheese sauce. Byleth halts halfway up the stairs to marvel at the old tapestry hung on the wall, frayed at the ends and with colors washed out from time, though it makes the hand stitched piece no less beautiful. Carefully, she lifts a hand to trace the span of the wings of a dragon, feeling the texture of the thread under her fingers. 

There’s something about this tapestry that catches her attention. In most depictions of the Goddess Sothis, she is accompanied by five dragons: the Sky, also known as the Immaculate One, the Light, the Earth, the Water and the Wind dragons. The fresco in the ceiling of the cathedral in Garreg Mach shows as such, along with the kneeling figure of Saint Seiros, four others that represent the Four Saints, two unidentified figures, all of them surrounded by the crests that were said to once exist, her gifts to the humans.

But here, on this particular piece, the Goddess isn’t accompanied by only five dragons. No, there are over a dozen, possibly twenty of them, all of which are flying around her form. 

“Professor?” Byleth snaps out of her musings, turning to find Flayn a few steps ahead giving her a concerned stare. “Are you feeling well?” 

Her facial muscles relax, and she notices how hard she’d been frowning at the tapestry. Byleth rubs the space between her eyebrows with her finger. “Yes. Sorry, I was admiring the tapestry and got lost in thought.”

“I see. It is beautiful, is it not?” Flayn climbs down the steps to stand by her side on the landing. “Brother Isaac stitched it himself.” 

Byleth’s insides are thrown into a state of confusion. “He did?” But it looks so  _ old! _

Flayn nods. “He is quite skilled in all manners of art, after all. You should ask him to show you some of his other embroideries. But ah, come along professor! I really want you to meet my fish!” 

Her smaller hand clasps around Byleth’s own and tugs. Flayn is stronger than she appears and manages to drag Byleth away from the landing of the stairs, her feet tripping over themselves as the young girl pulls her along. Head spinning, Byleth casts one last look at the tapestry before it gets out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Am Once Again Apologizing For Not Replying Just Yet. Do know that I appreciate every comment I get and think back on them often, though! 🥺🥺
> 
> But hey, how's it going? Here it's been the same old, so I'm not gonna delve into it sjafhakfh I hope everyone's been hanging in there with all that's going on, especially after the storm that was Nov 5th, the Covid outbreak in Europe, and the US elections.
> 
> As for this fic, I've sadly caught up with all complete chapters I've written previously, so updates might become inconsistent from here onwards, mostly because I have some other wips to tend to. But fret not! I'm writing something to celebrate Seteth's birthday, so you'll still be getting setleth content from me next month. And if you're interested, the [Seteth Birthday Bash](https://twitter.com/setethbday2020) is to take place in December! Be sure to check it out for more Seteth content! 
> 
> And finally *opens notepad* the girls were rescued, Byleth experiences some Unusual Things, Red is sus, Jeralt gets a Treat Yourself day, Flayn is Gamer Girl Queen, and Isaac is dropping hints that Seteth is single. That's the gist of it. *closes notepad*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you next time! 💚


	10. dinner for five

When Flayn said she had an aquarium, Byleth had expected a glorified fish bowl, or those small two-feet long rectangular aquariums with plastic algae and colorful gravel at the bottom, a couple of goldfish, maybe a guppy or a nano fish, and an extra separate aquarium to keep a betta fish. 

She hadn’t expected an actual _fish tank_ like those you see in fancy restaurants with soft blue light, a replica of a coral reef and several saltwater fish swimming around. It’s tall and easily takes up most of the wall opposite to the large windows, a craft that leaves Byleth speechless enough to momentarily forget about the tapestry on the staircase. 

Flayn named every fish and being inside the aquarium and points them out as she recalls their names, but Byleth is a bit too shocked staring at two starfishes to actually register the names. 

“Which one do you like the most, professor?” 

Blinking out of her trance, she quickly surveys the fishes lazily swimming around and points at a white and yellow one. A butterflyfish, if she recalls correctly, having already forgotten everything as if Flayn had listed the names and species too many months ago instead of just a couple of minutes ago. In her defense, there are many more fishes than she’d have expected for an aquarium owned by a highschooler. But this is _Flayn_ , so she shouldn’t be surprised.

Flayn claps with an excited hum. “Dorothy is one of my favorites too!” 

She smiles at her student, gives herself a mental shake and tries to focus more on Flayn’s ramblings. It’s clear she loves her fishes dearly, and there probably aren’t many people in Garreg Mach who would be willing to listen to so many fish facts for too long. Byleth appreciates her students, so she smiles and nods and asks questions as Flayn points at all the colorful animals with a wide grin on her face. The extent of Flayn’s knowledge when it comes to marine creatures is amazing and honestly leaves Byleth speechless.

Is this how other people feel like when she goes on a tangent about history?

A slight knock on the door interrupts Flayn when she’s talking about clownfish and its symbiotic interaction with sea anemones. Seteth stands in the doorway, his smile softening the lines on his face. He looks well rested, healthier, at peace now that Flayn has returned to their home, safe and sound. And still incredibly hot, but you didn’t hear it from her.

“Isaac mentioned you wanted to set the table.” Flayn perks up and skips towards the exit of her room. “Go on ahead. I will accompany Byleth downstairs.” 

Flayn’s steps echo in the house as she takes the staircase to return to the kitchen. Byleth is hyper aware of the silence in the room now that Flayn is gone, and she feels strange to be alone with Seteth in his own house.

“Is this the part where you explain everything to me?” She says at length, trying to break the ice and lighten the mood. Surprisingly, it works, for Seteth chuckles quietly and shakes his head. 

“Not quite yet, but I promise to speak with you after dinner.” 

Byleth harrumphs and loosely crosses her arms. The mood remains light and he continues to smile, so she lifts a brow and offers him a smile of her own. “It sounds to me like you’re stalling.”

“You are not entirely wrong,” he says, and her smile loses its playful edge, becoming a genuine thing. “It will be hard to say it, but I did give you my word.” 

“Normally I’d tell you not to force yourself, but I did risk my neck, so I think I deserve at least a little something.”

“That you did.” He looks pointedly at her hands, and Byleth fights the instinct to hide them from sight. How long will it be until people forget her hands magically healed for reasons she can’t understand? “Which is why I even offered to reveal some things to you in the first place.” 

“Well then, thank you for trusting me.” Byleth nods, then jerks her head sideways. “We can talk more about it later, though.”

“Right.” Lightly clearing his throat, Seteth backs out of the doorway to let her pass, and together they return to the ground floor of the house.

But not before Byleth stops on the landing again. All the fish talk may have distracted her, but it didn’t completely erase the memory of what Flayn said about the tapestry hung on the wall. “Where did you get this?” 

Seteth turns his gaze to the tapestry, but his face betrays nothing. “Oh this? Isaac bought it in an auction some years ago.” Byleth hums, still staring at it. “Why do you ask?” 

“It’s beautiful,” she replies honestly. “I’ll have to ask him more about it when we both have some time.” 

Seteth nods, gives her a warning about Isaac’s tendency to ramble incessantly when he’s talking about art, and resumes guiding her to the ground floor. Byleth follows a step behind him, eyes trained on the back of his head.

He’s lying. She knows both Isaac and Michael were keeping things from her when Flayn was kidnapped, knows that they keep some information close and under lock and key. It’s highly likely that Seteth had this excuse ready for when she asked about it. In comparison, Flayn isn’t a good liar, often growing panicked when people ask her about certain topics or when she ends up saying too much. 

Byleth knows Flayn’s answer was genuine. Isaac stitched the tapestry by hand, Flayn said so herself and then immediately pulled her along to see the aquarium as a diversion.

Whatever they are hiding, it’s bigger than whatever Seteth will reveal.

* * *

Their dinner table is a ridiculously long one with ten seats, four on each side, seemingly useless to a family made up of only four members, but hey, Byleth isn’t about to start judging their choices of decor. Well, not unless she finds some really weird stuff. 

Flayn arranged it with a beautiful set of plates with rose flowers painted around the edges, napkins neatly folded to the side, and silver cutlery lined as one would expect to find in a fancy restaurant or wedding. Byleth wonders if every day is like this, or if they settle for plain plates and a single fork and knife on a daily basis. Given Seteth’s habits and what she’s witnessed so far, she knows they won’t be having instant noodles for dinner while they watch TV in their pajamas, though. 

Byleth sits across from Flayn and beside Isaac, with Michael at the head of the table and Seteth beside their sister. She eyes their dinner, so many different dishes that it could probably feed a family of six or more.

_Could probably_ being the keywords. They don’t know each other all that well, but they know her enough to know that Byleth eats more than the average person. Seteth, more than anyone else, knows that personally, for he witnessed her demolishing two burgers and fries in front of him that first time she dragged him out to get food. 

She tries, she really does, to take it easy this time and control her intake of food, but it all smells so delicious and tastes so _good_ that she can’t seem to stop eating. 

There’s roasted meat and potatoes. The potatoes are a beautiful golden brown, soft and buttery, and they melt in her mouth. The meat by itself is tender and juicy, but the traditional Gautier cheese sauce the brothers were struggling to get right makes it even tastier. 

Flayn isn’t fond of the red meat dish, so they also prepared a whole steamed fish seasoned with thyme and lemon, which Byleth makes sure to try. There’s a bowl of salad, mixed greens with chopped strawberries for a touch of freshness, Isaac jokes as he hands her the glass bowl. And if all of that isn’t enough, there’s also onion gratin soup and some spaghetti that, though simple, is just as delicious as the rest. 

At least they seem to take pride that she has some of each dish presented, and Isaac offers to share with her the recipe of the cheese sauce. All the dishes served tonight are easily found in Faerghus, but none of them ever tasted this good when she still lived there.

After a delightful dessert that isn’t as popular among tourists as the sweet bun trio, but is as traditional all the same, Flayn steals Byleth away to the living room, where she docks her video game and gives Byleth a full tour of her island. Byleth offered to deal with the dishes herself, but Seteth assured her that, between the three of them, they would get the task done quickly. 

“It is not often when we get visits,” Isaac confided to her in a murmur while she helped him gather the dirty plates. “Flayn is overjoyed to have you here.” And well, that sealed the deal.

Flayn’s character has light green hair tied in twin braids, which is adorned by a colorful rose crown. There isn’t much to see yet because she’s just started the game, Flayn explains as she guides her character around, but it doesn’t stop her from sharing her plans for the island with Byleth. A museum area, a garden area, an orchard, a little market place. Flayn excitedly tells her that soon she will be able to dive in the sea for more creatures, and Byleth can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. 

She shows Byleth her only two villagers: a blue bear cub obsessed with working out (kind of reminds Byleth of Caspar), and a cute pink dog with large eyes. And then comes the fish tour: lots, and lots of glass containers lined neatly and stacked on top of each other. “The museum is not done yet!” But that clearly doesn’t stop her from fishing all the time.

Minutes later, when Flayn has swapped that game for a racing game Byleth is more familiar with, the brothers emerge from the kitchen. Macuil beelines for the lone armchair whilst Isaac occupies the other vacant spot beside Flayn. 

Seteth remains standing, a tray of tea in hands, and Byleth takes her cue to excuse herself and stand. “Let us give it another try,” Isaac says behind her. He’s the one who has the least problems with technology out of the three brothers, but oh what wouldn’t she give to see them racing on the Rainbow Road. 

Byleth follows Seteth to his office at the back of the first floor of the house. The shelves are full of old books and tomes, and some old hand drawn pictures are framed and hung on the wall, the delicate yellowed pages kept safe behind a pane of glass. 

This whole house is a historian’s paradise. Byleth feels like she could stay here for a full week and still she wouldn’t have seen and learned about all the historic pieces on display. Some of those are so old that they are certainly museum-worthy, and once again she asks herself how it is that they got their hands on all of this. These pieces definitely aren’t cheap. 

Like his office in the Academy, this one also has a small sitting area. Byleth occupies one of the plush armchairs whilst he pours them some tea; mint, good for digestion, and she certainly needs it after that small feast for five people.

Seteth sits across from her, a coffee table with the tray on top in the space between them, and he takes the time to cool and sip his tea slowly. Stalling, again. “I confess I do not know where to begin.”

“The beginning is fine.” He gives her a long suffering look, to which she snickers in response. “Seriously though, it’s been made clear that you don’t feel comfortable telling me about-” Byleth gestures vaguely, and he nods in understanding, “so how about this: I ask a few questions I’m dying to know the answer to and we call it a night?”

“...It depends on what you are asking,” he says at length, carefully.

“I have no interest in prying and knowing your full backstory, if that’s what you fear.” It’s her turn to give him a look, because that’s exactly what he tried to do a few times before. “A few questions, you answer as best as you’re able and we call it a night.” 

Seteth considers her offer carefully, looking down at the steam spirals rising from his tea. He looks up at her again. “Deal.”

Byleth doesn’t give him a moment to prepare himself. “What is it that made Flayn a target?” 

He balks, pressing his lips together. She can see the struggle in his eyes to not immediately shut down the conversation and boot her out of his office, so she waits patiently. Byleth has no other plans for tonight or nowhere else to be; she can wait here for as long as he needs. Jeralt’s curfew is more of a joke, anyway.

Finally, Seteth sighs and lowers the teacup and saucer to the coffee table. Byleth hadn’t really bothered to get hers in the first place, knowing from the start that the drink would be neglected. “Flayn carries a Crest.” Oh, that’s... Certainly not what she had expected, not that she knew what to expect, to begin with. “A Major Crest, pr- Byleth, not mere traces of it.”

“Oh,” she says eloquently. Few people have traces of it in their blood, and even fewer people can say that they are the bearer of some kind of Minor Crest. A Major Crest, though? That’s even more rare.

“That doesn’t really explain anything,” she says aloud, musing to herself, but Seteth doesn’t interrupt her. “How would they even know about it unless they witnessed it activating or they saw the results of a blood exam? And what would they even do with it? Crests aren’t useful or relevant anymore.” 

“That is what I ask myself.” Seteth rubs his temples with his fingers. At this moment, he looks as tired as he did last week. “We have no way of knowing that for sure until that... Death Knight is caught.” 

“Do you think it really is Jeritza?”

“It is hard to say for certain, but he vanished at the same time Flayn was taken and he has not appeared since.”

Byleth hums in contemplation, resting her cheek on her fist. A Crest, huh? Who would’ve- _ah_. She laughs; she has to. “So Hanneman was right after all.” 

“Hanneman?” Seteth questions. “What did he say?” 

“We were having a late lunch once and he brought up how Flayn had been kidnapped because she secretly had traces of a Crest. Me and Shamir thought it was just one of his ramblings, and it really was a wild speculation, but he was right in the end. I never would’ve imagined.”

Seteth shifts on his seat, not pleased by that revelation. “You must not tell him about it.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” she reassures him. She knows how Hanneman can get when Crests are involved; she wouldn’t wish for Flayn to experience that so closely. “I’m curious about another thing. I’ve noticed before that Isaac and Michael aren’t as... Overprotective as you are when it comes to Flayn, and they really acted differently during the time she was taken.” 

A beat passes where he stares at her warily. “What are you trying to imply?”

“I am saying that they were perfectly able to teach and help in the search while you were busy becoming one with your office chair and neglecting your meals.” 

“Worry and grief affect people differently, professor.” 

“Don’t you ‘professor’ me,” Byleth replies evenly. “Your relationship with Flayn is different from theirs. Don’t tell me it’s only because she’s closer to you. Why is it?”

Seteth frowns, then drops his head with a sigh. “You are definitely Jeralt’s daughter.” 

“Yes, I’ve known that for the past twenty-something years.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Isaac and Michael are... Found family. Only Flayn and I are actually related.”

“Hmm, that makes sense. To be honest, I suspected as much. The age gap between Michael and Flayn is too large, even if they were to be born in different marriages.” 

Seteth concedes to that with a nod. “Family is family, however. We are more comfortable passing off as siblings.”

“I’m not judging that. The difference in the display of concern got me wondering, is all.” Byleth shakes her head. “Would you feel comfortable telling me how you met?”

“I cannot give you the full details because the story is not only mine to tell, but we all lost loved ones. Flayn lost her mother, I lost my wife, and so forth. We found support in one another.”

Byleth snaps her head up, blinking rather stupidly at him. “You- you were married?”

Seteth lifts an amused eyebrow. “Yes. Is that so surprising?” 

“You just- you have that single dad that drives a sedan vibe. I never considered...”

“I know I look like I am only twenty-five-”

“You really don’t.”

“But I have experienced quite a few things in life.” 

“Heh, I don’t doubt that.” After losing their mother and his wife, though, Byleth can understand why he acts that way and keeps Flayn so sheltered.

She watches him pick up the forgotten teacup to sip on the cooled drink. Seteth ran a background check when she was admitted as a teacher, he questioned her and looked down on her more times than she can possibly count. He might be the one other ally inside the Academy that she needs. 

“Seteth.” His green eyes focus on her from over the teacup. “I think we should keep an eye on Monica Ochs.” 

“Why is that?” He asks, not accusing but genuinely curious. 

Byleth thinks over her words carefully. She has nothing to back up what can be described as a gut feeling, so she will have to find a way to make this work. “It’s just... Strange, isn’t it? She went missing for about a year, and now that she was found she wants to immediately re-enroll in the Academy. That doesn’t seem-” normal “-healthy.”

“Hmm, I understand. I would rather that she go back home to spend some time with her family to heal after what certainly was a traumatic experience, but she was really against it. Monica really sounded like she did not want to go back, which made me consider that, perhaps, she may have suffered some form of abuse.”

“Have you contacted her family?” 

“Not yet. I was going to, but after that conversation, I am hesitant. I have been speaking with Miss Rhea about it. Hopefully we can reach a conclusion soon.” 

“In any case, we should keep an eye on her, just in case she needs help.” Or something else happens, hopefully nothing bad. 

Seteth nods and offers her a smile, pleased that she’s concerned for one of the students. “Since we are already here, Byleth, may I?” Byleth nods, half dreading what he is about to ask. If he mentions her hands again, she won’t have any proper response to give him. “You offered to help me with Flayn if I needed it.” 

That feels like it happened so long ago, the botched attempt to not be caught when the three brothers showed up in the library and started talking about her near her cramped reading spot. The same day she got to touch the Sword of the Creator, the same day she and Flayn baked cinnamon rolls together, the same day she got her first picture with the students, the five of them dusted with flour and sugar.

She also remembers he’d thought it absurd to ask for her help. “I did. What is it?” 

Seteth struggles more now to get the words out than he did before. “Perhaps you will not know what to do seeing as you have no younger siblings to look after or children of your own, but you are... Younger than me and also a woman, so maybe you might relate to her...” 

Her lips curl in an amused smile, eyebrows arching up high. “No need to beat around the bush so much. What is it?” 

“Flayn... Often expresses her desire to have more friends and... To hang out with them.” 

“That sounds normal to me. Good, even. She’s a teenager, it’s natural that she wants to befriend people.” 

“Yes, but I cannot... Keep her safe when she’s with them.” 

Oh, so this is what it is about. Byleth chuckles lightly. “Seteth, the way you say it, it sounds like you’re her father.” She smothers her laugh into her palm and clears her throat to recompose herself. Seteth isn’t looking at her. “Can I be honest?” 

“Go ahead.”

“When I was looking for clues, one of the students mentioned that Flayn’s naiveté may have been the cause that got her kidnapped.” She hadn’t thought about it until Ignatz brought it up, and it did make sense. “She’s... Sheltered, Seteth, and that won’t be good for her in the long run.”

“But she was already taken from right under my nose! What will happen if I do not keep her in my sights anymore?”

Byleth tries not to cringe, but it’s hard. It’s very clear Seteth worries for his sister’s well being and she wants to help both for his sake and Flayn’s, but she’s not really equipped to have this kind of conversation. “I know it’s hard to ignore it, but kidnappings are not a daily occurrence, are they? So, that aside, Flayn needs friends her age. Friendships are good for one’s health, you know? They make us happier. Humans are sociable creatures.” 

Seteth still doesn’t look like he’s fond of the idea of letting Flayn hang out with her classmates, but he hasn’t shut her down completely. “What do you propose I do?” 

“Just- let her have some fun, yeah? Everyone knows you in the Academy, I doubt they will try anything funny. And they were concerned for her, too, these past weeks. I’m sure they’ll take care of her if they hang out together.” No one would be stupid enough to do anything knowing she’s Seteth’s little sister. Except maybe Sylvain, that one is a wild card. “How about this? There’s this movie that’s coming out soon. I can chaperone Flayn and three others to the movies. I think Mercedes and Annette would love to tag along, and I know for sure that Dorothea wants to watch it. How does that sound?” 

Once again, he considers the proposal with great care. “That does not sound... Awful.” 

“That’s a start. I’ll speak with Flayn and we can see if the girls want to tag along.” 

“Yes, yes. There is... Something else.” 

Oh no. “What is it?” 

Seteth lets out a heaving sigh. “Flayn wants a cellphone.” 

“I... Am surprised she doesn’t have one already, to be honest.” Byleth got her first phone when she was around eleven years old, so she could text and call Jeralt as she went to her many practice classes by herself. Nowadays, kids are getting cellphones much earlier than that. “I don’t think that would be too bad?” 

“But the boys-” 

Byleth doesn’t mean to laugh, but she does, loud and hearty, a laugh that blooms from the pit of her stomach. Seteth halts midspeech to blink at her in stunned silence, and Byleth curls into herself to try to contain her laughter. It slowly subsides and she inhales deeply to squash the last of it.

“Are you done?” He sounds unamused, but his eyes are brighter than they were before.

“Yes, sorry, sorry.” She clears her throat again. “I’m sure you’re aware that having crushes is a natural part of teenagehood, yes?” 

“Yes, I am aware,” Seteth says petulantly, gaze directed to the ceiling. Byleth snickers into her palm.

“You can’t protect her from everything. Sure, teach her not to give out her address or trust strangers on the internet blindly, but also trust her to shut others down when they cross the line.” He nods begrudgingly, still clearly unhappy with the course the conversation has taken, but Byleth will trust him to take it into consideration. “Besides, I think all she’s gonna do is post a lot of pictures of fish on Instagram.”

“Post pictures of fish on what now?” 

Oh no, this is too good. “I’ll show you later.” Byleth thinks of her gallery full of pictures of Sothis, of fishing trips with her dad, of videos from her training sessions. Some students find the mess absolutely cool, but it’s nowhere as aesthetically pleasing as Dorothea’s feed. “You don't need to let her go wild with it right off the bat. Lay down some reasonable rules, talk to her. Trust Flayn on it, Seteth. It will be good for her.” 

His stern expression falls with a sigh. “Very well. I will give it some thought and will speak with her about it.” 

Mildly pleased that she’s done a good job, Byleth finally picks up her teacup again. It’s gone completely cold by now, but she doesn’t mind it at all. Cold tea is refreshing in the warmer months, few as they were back in Fhirdiad, but here in Remire they have more days to enjoy the cold treat on the weekends. 

It’s not really necessary here in their house, she finds. Being hidden away in a cluster of trees leaves its interior cool. A fair price to pay for peace and tranquility, she thinks, and lots of privacy too. 

Seteth stands from the armchair and walks to his table, pulling the first drawer open. “I have something for you.” 

“Hmm?” Byleth sets down her cup, now completely empty. “You don’t need to give me anything, you know.” 

“Perhaps, but even so I am forever in your debt. If there comes a time when I can repay you in kind, know that I will.” Seteth returns to his previous spot and offers her a small packaging. “This is but a tiny token of my gratitude.” 

Byleth hesitates, but she ends up accepting the gift if only to get him to stop looking at her that way. It makes her throat dry up and her stomach flutter, so she takes the packaging and carefully picks at the tape as a means to distract herself from the warm feeling blooming in her chest. 

Once the tape is removed, she unfolds the paper to reveal a piece of fabric neatly folded into a square. It’s a handkerchief, only this one has her own initials stitched in the corner in pink thread. 

A small laugh escapes from her. “Thanks. I’m afraid the one you gave me was ruined in the skirmish.” 

“So I heard.” This time, he doesn’t look at her hands. “In any case, it is good to always have one handkerchief at hand. You never know when you will need one.”

“You said so one time.” Byleth flashes him a smile and carefully slips the handkerchief into her purse. “Thank you.” 

His lips curve up and he stalls for a moment before standing up once more. “I believe we have been here enough. Flayn was excited that you were going to visit and was looking forward to playing some games with you. Us three, we are... Not very good at it.” 

Byleth bites the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling. She’s noticed as much. Alois isn’t the only one who struggles with the coffee machine, though the brothers tend to prefer tea more often than not. Isaac is the only one who knows how to drive, and Seteth isn’t the most well versed person when it comes to using a cellphone. 

“Sure, let’s go.” She stands as well and follows him back to the living room.

* * *

Upon coming home, Jeralt doesn’t give her a hard time. He’s actually dozing off on the couch, Sothis curled up on his stomach, while an old Almyran novela plays on the TV. The earlier mug was swapped for a beer bottle, and the plate of cheese and crackers was traded for a pizza box. 

She lifts the lid to grab a slice for herself; pizza is pizza, and she’s never going to turn down an opportunity to have some of it, even if she had dinner about three hours ago. 

“Dad,” Byleth whispers, shaking his shoulder. “Come on, it’s late.” 

Jeralt snorts when he awakens, jumping on the couch and sending Sothis scrambling off with a displeased hiss. He looks from Byleth to the TV to Byleth again, and then reaches for his phone to check the time once he’s gathered his bearings. 

“So much for coming to my rescue.” Byleth laughs around a bite of the delicious cheesy pizza and heads upstairs, leaving her grumbling dad to pick up after himself quickly before following her to the second floor.

“How was it?” He asks, once again leaning on the door jamb of her bedroom to watch as she puts the purse away and sets the heels aside.

“It was pretty good, actually.” Jeralt grunts and she flips him off, earning a middle finger herself. Ah, single dads. “Don’t even start. Flayn showed me her aquarium. It’s really big and has so many colorful fishes in it, I think you’d like it.”

“Mhmm, what else?”

“The food was great. I ate until I was stuffed. Then I played some games with Flayn; Seteth bought her a video game after- after. And then I went to talk to him.” 

Jeralt hums, muffling a yawn behind a hand. “And what did he say?” 

Ideally, Byleth should keep all the things he said to herself, honor Seteth’s wish of having a private life and keep her mouth zipped shut - but her dad is one of those who got most affected by Flayn’s kidnapping, so she believes she owes him at least some kind of explanation. She can trust him to keep a secret (he keeps many, that she knows) and she tells him everything that’s important anyway.

Everything, except for the brand of the Crest of Flames that rests over her heart.

“Turns out Flayn does have a Crest. A Major one, at that.” She gauges his reaction as she says this, but his face barely changes. It isn’t that sleep is affecting his focus - his eyes are clear enough - but rather that he either looks unfazed or unsurprised. Byleth chooses not to dwell on it for now. “And only he and Flayn are related. Isaac and Michael are found family.”

“Ah,” Jeralt sighs, lifting a hand to rub the inner corner of his eyes. “Well, they really do look like siblings. All green, all weird. Like some strange leafy green salad. Lettuce, kale, spinach and cabbage all tossed together.”

“That’s possibly the worst comparison I’ve ever heard,” she says, “but it... Kind of makes sense? Anyway, after that he asked for some advice on Flayn, because she wants to make friends and hang out with them, but he’s super overprotective.”

“I hope you gave him some solid advice.” Jeralt shifts his weight to the other side of the door jamb. “I wish I had someone to tell me what to do when you were little, but it’s honestly sad to see her so isolated from the others.” 

Byleth nods, a silent agreement to his observation. Flayn had been so overjoyed when they planned that surprise birthday party; it was clear she didn’t get the chance to celebrate with others much.

It’s none of her business, but she can’t help but wonder what exactly happened to make Seteth this way.

“I told him about Monica. Sort of. Just gave him a heads up that we should keep an eye on her because she went through a traumatic experience. They honestly don’t find her behavior weird, which really makes me concerned for their, well-”

“Sanity?” Jeralt cuts in, shaking his head. “By, I understand you like Flayn and want to help, but don’t let your guard down. They aren’t normal.”

“What are you trying to say?” She frowns. There he goes again with his cryptic words. “Can’t you just say it once and for all instead of being vague as hell?” 

“It’s just a feeling I have,” Jeralt brushes it off, and she scoffs at his poor attempt at diversion. “They’re hiding something.”

“And so are you,” she shoots back, immediately regretting it. Quickly, she thinks of a follow up before the words can hurt too deep. “And me, and everyone in the world. I bet even Mercedes has a secret she’s not telling, and she’s the embodiment of all things good and she’s pretty open with everyone.” Sighing, Byleth combs her fingers through her hair. “That’s enough for now. We can finish this conversation in the morning.”

“I agree.” Jeralt pushes away from the door jamb, offers her one of his gruff smiles and leaves for his bedroom.

Once the door shuts behind his back, Byleth collapses on the edge of her mattress, hiding her face in her hands. She can’t afford to have disagreements with her dad now, but it’s hard not to when he won’t be clear with her. There’s so much happening, what she knew of her life is falling apart at the seams; she would really appreciate it if he would just say things instead of being so shady.

The way he says it, it’s like the Nabateas and Rhea are hiding something really obscure. Are they past murderers? Vampires of some sort? Did they kick a dog at some point in life? Are they secretly lizard people or something?

Ugh, right now, she really wishes they hadn’t moved from Faerghus. She’d have a TA job and wouldn’t have seen someone literally die in front of her. And also wound back time. And plenty of other strange things.

Sothis hops on the bed with a meow, bumping her pink nose on Byleth’s cheek. She smiles, reaching over to pet the cat until she purrs. It will be fine, she thinks. The truth will catch up with her eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this thing that I like to be at least one chapter ahead of the current update, just in case something happens or I hit a, you know, writer's block WHICH IS THE CASE HERE, but seeing as this block won't go away until I fistfight it in the nearest McDonald's parking lot at 3am, I'm just gonna release this into the wild. It's been too long since the last update already and I hope I won't go as long without updating again, but life happens sometimes. 
> 
> Also I know I said I'd write something for Seteth's birthday, but again writer's block also a bunch of personal things. I'll take a raincheck on that one. Someday I'll write it. Someday............. Anyway *flourishes*
> 
> My favorite part here is every setleth interaction, period. Especially when Seteth goes "bUt ThE bOyS!!!" and Byleth just loses her shit, and Seteth just goes a bit starry eyed because Byleth rarely laughs like that and it's Very Pretty. Obviously. 
> 
> For next chapter, I have planned some more school time, and a little more development for Byleth's relationship with the lizard people; basically I'll be bridging this to the next big plot point. 
> 
> Any thoughts? Theories? I admit I love hearing those to see who can guess stuff right, even if this is a Twilight parody akfhakjfhajk also, I'm slowly moving through my inbox (and I mean _slowly_ ), so don't be worried when you get a reply for a comment from like.... october or something. 
> 
> Cheers!! 🌸

**Author's Note:**

> | [tumblr](https://chininiris.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/chininiris) | [carrd](https://chininiris.carrd.com/) |


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